And Then There Was
by Tabitha12
Summary: By Amanda and Mary. Day On story. A new face comes to Schooner Bay, causing a surprising reaction from a highly unlikely source. However, the show must go on.
1. Chapter 1

_**Note from the authors, MARY AND AMANDA:**_

_**This story takes place in the GAMM **__**From This Day On Universe**__**. If you are new to this **__**GAMM Extended Universe**__**, there is a list of stories at the end of the second chapter that you might want to read also. The stories, read in order, explain where all the characters came from, how they know the Ghost and Mrs. Muir, how they got to Schooner Bay, and why they stay.**_

_**Any canon characters who appeared in the original series belong to NBC, ABC, RA Dick, (A.K.A. Josephine Leslie) etc. The rest belong to Amanda or Mary. Their names may be derived to honor more famous people, But they have a character all their own in this world. Bronwyn is modeled after no one in particular, we just like her. The plays mentioned in this story all belong to their authors. **_

And Then There Was…

Mary and Amanda

**October, 1982 Gull Cottage, Maine**

"I trust you'll be able to keep busy while the crew and I are at the meeting?" Captain Gregg asked his wife as he, Sean O'Casey, Molly O'Casey, and Lord Charles Dashire prepared to depart for a spectral fraternity meeting. They planned to leave as soon as Tristan Matthews arrived.

"Of course," Carolyn Muir-Gregg smiled. "I'm not a helpless female, after all! Besides, I thought I'd finish up that sewing I started for Amberly that SOMEONE keeps distracting me from." Her green eyes twinkled at her ghostly husband.

As the other two men chuckled, Molly looked around. "Where is Tristan? He's supposed to give that teaching session on how to sleep. That's one of the main reasons we're going, don't you know."

Frowning in concentration, the Captain sent out a minor query to the ether. A moment later, Tristan appeared. "You rang?" He grinned and saluted.

"We're going to be late to the spectral fraternity meeting if we don't get a move on," Daniel informed him. "And we're waiting for you. Fontenot is meeting us there..."

"And your brother is doing something with the horses, of course," Sean added. "Foaling, I think he mentioned a breech birth, and a possible all-night session. Emphasis on _I think_. You know how fast he talks, and he was in a hurry."

"I think Sig invents equine emergencies to get out of things," Tristan muttered. Then in a more audible tone he continued. "But, I'm not going either. So you can go on."

"You have to go!" Dash exclaimed. "It's YOUR lecture, after all."

"Come on, you guys have been to less than a handful, Amberly's handful at that, of meetings in the last dozen years," Tristan shot back. "Why are you going now and trying to force me also?"

"He's got a point. Why don't you all go? I enjoyed the ones I attended back in Ireland," Molly asked softly. "'Twas nice to have company."

"That is why, dear friend," Daniel smiled. With a fond glance at his wife, then at his friends, he admitted, "My need for company has been satisfied with my family of late. I will agree with Tris." He pulled on his earlobe. "They are boring affairs."

"Aha!" Tristan smirked, drifting to the ceiling, where he reclined on an air pocket.

"Get down," Carolyn instructed, pointing a finger at him.

For her, he did without argument.

"Give me one good reason why we should let you avoid it," Daniel commanded. "You are, after all, supposed to make a presentation."

"I can do better than that, my Captain," Tristan smiled. "One, they bore me to death, and I'm dead enough already. Two, I don't like being bored, it can be dangerous. My mind wanders off to think of mischief, you know, when I'm stricken by ennui. Three, I don't like meetings, period. Four, I don't make speeches. Five, when the older ghosts see me, they see a kid. I could make myself appear as venerable as Fontenot, and they would STILL see a kid. No one likes being instructed by a kid. On the other hand, Sir, your mere presence demands respect with only a look. Therefore, I humbly give you the honor, dubious though it may be, of giving the lecture." He bowed smartly. Then, on rising, he added, "Besides, what if Candy and Thom have some emergency? He is still convalescing. Having a ghost free, especially one who drives, can be good."

"Dash, Adam has corrupted the boy," Daniel growled. Sighing profoundly, he looked in annoyance at Tristan. "Very well. However, the last point is the only one that is worth anything."

Tristan shrugged. "Long as one of them does."

Shaking his head, Captain Gregg bent to kiss his wife. "We will see you subsequently, my dear."

Then, the four ghosts vanished.

"Stay a while, Tris, and keep me company," Carolyn suggested.

"Of course. Those things tend to run long. Older spooks have no sense of time," the young man shook his head and took a seat. "So, what can I do for you, Mrs. Captain?" Tristan asked genially, scratching Dakota's ears.

"Actually," Carolyn said, "I was going to ask you that very question. What can I do for you?"

Looking amazed, Tristan asked, "Whatever do you mean?"

Carolyn laid the sewing she had picked up back down in her lap. "Tris, I know you've been visiting Candy and Thom a good bit." She paused to give him a significant look, then went on, "It's not easy being a care-giver."

"Which is why I'm visiting, partly," Tristan interjected. "Not to be immodest, but I am rather good at evoking a laugh or two. Even back in the hospital, you could tell, Thom's mood was starting to go black and blue. That's not good, for either of them, so, I thought maybe I could keep them both out of the doldrums. Besides, it gives him and me a chance to become friends. Thom is important to a lot of people I care about, and Candy and I agreed to — try to be friends again."

Carolyn nodded. "I'm glad. How's it going?"

"I think," the young man said thoughtfully, "that it is going well. Adam really does need Candy at work, and Lynne, Jess, and Blackie all do have jobs, so someone needs to pop in on him yet. He's getting stir crazy, bored. We talk, play cards, and watch television. I won't say we're best friends, like Dave and me, but we're not enemies. AND, thank heavens, the glares have ended. I always hoped that would happen, though the circumstances COULD have been more ideal. I do think he's getting sick of the hovering. I understand he's insisted that Candy attend the poker and ladies' night tomorrow, and he seems to enjoy hearing updates on how the play of Claymore's is doing."

Mrs. Gregg nodded. "_And Then There Were None,_ right?" At Tristan's "yes," she added, "How IS it going?"

Tristan sighed profoundly. "I guess not that badly, except it really is truly lousy timing to be doing a play. In my humble opinion, we should have cancelled, but Claymore refused, and..."

"You did try out and promise to do it before Thom's accident happened," Carolyn nodded. "I was glad that Candy turned down the Vera Claythorne role. With all that's gone on, she'd have to pull out."

"Molly will do just fine," Tris nodded. "With Sean doing Lombard, it's a natural anyway. Molly and Sean appearing together always works. Those two light up a stage regardless what they do. Strange not to hear them sing together, though. Their big challenge in this show is trying to sound more English than Irish!"

"Well, Sean did sound like a proper Britisher as Freddie Eynsford Hill, and Molly certainly managed Eliza," Carolyn grinned. "With a certain amount of coaching, that is."

"Yes, and my dear brother is having a ball doing William Blore, because he doesn't have to work too hard on a Cockney accent," Tris added. "He's even made it part of his character to talk too fast, but Claymore, and everyone else in the cast, is still telling him to slow down. I doubt he will EVER get that message."

"Tell me again who everyone is playing," Carolyn prompted. "I know Claymore told me, but I really don't remember, and had my mind on other things, mostly Thom and Candy, at the time. You are playing Anthony Marston, right?"

"Right. But it's Prince Nikita Starloff, and Dash might make me regret it with all his 'your highnesses,' and teasing me about singing the Indian's song. I'm nervous enough about that as it is. Martha and Ed are Thomas and Ethel Rogers, of course. Abner Dawes is General Sir John Mandrake. He's really doing quite well. Norrie is Judge Francis J. Quinncannon. Michael Post has a bit as Fred Naracott, the boatman, Darlene Hassen-pickle whatever-her-name is Emily Brent, and, that reminds me, if she tries to set me up with that child of hers one more time, I'll take my head off, like Elroy did once. Doctor Armstrong you know — Fontenot. He just laughs when he sees me ducking Darlene and Penny. He says, 'Why do you think I chose one of my more venerable faces for this? I'm too… not young… to be in any shark's line of sight'." He shook his head. "I still have trouble believing that Fontenot actually wanted to try out!"

"Excuse me, Tris," Carolyn held up a hand and looked puzzled. "I've seen that play, and that wasn't your character's name in it. "I thought it was General McKenzie, not Mandrake, the Judge's name is Wargrave, and I didn't think your character sang..."

The seaman grinned. "Our director has been smushing the play and the 1945, I think, movie together into a "new, improved version," to use HIS words. Of course, as Martha tells it, it could be worse. He could have written it all."

"Martha is very wise," Carolyn smiled. "As far as the song goes, you will be fine. You have a good voice. And as for Fontenot, whether he will admit it or not, likes people, or is getting more used to them, at any rate, and I think he counts the theater as another type of diversion, maybe, especially as he hasn't had to tutor any spirits lately, not since Elroy. He must get bored at times, too, don't you think?"

"Maybe," Tris nodded. "Could be, I suppose. I'll tell you, I'm glad Fontenot is the teacher around here."

"How so?" Carolyn asked, frowning.

"Teachers have to have an extraordinary amount of patience, and after three-hundred plus years, Fontenot is a master."

"In what respect?"

"In spite of everyone's better judgement, he is letting Claymore run the show and do the directing," Tris sighed. "And even for an old war-horse of a play, as I understand it, I don't think it's going as well as it might, and Claymore is driving me nuts."

"You, or everyone?" Carolyn grinned, remembering her theater experience with her former landlord.

"Everyone, I guess," Tris shrugged. "He's treating it more like a DRAMA than a mystery, which are two different things, really. He still doesn't have the show completely blocked, and by now it should be. I practically had to do my own. He thinks he wants to change the ending a bit. As written, it is kinda corny, but he hasn't decided how yet, and he's back to some other old tricks, according to Martha."

"Old tricks?"

"You know — going on, and on about motivation, tempo, his 'experience in the _theatah, dahling_,' all that stuff when he hasn't a clue, and if he calls me 'Tristan, my boy,' or Molly, or Martha or ANYONE 'Honey-baby-sweetie-pie-baby cupcake' one more time, I think I am going to flatten him. He's driving me to homicide!"

Carolyn shook her head. "Old tricks, indeed. Fontenot hasn't given him one of his looks yet?"

"He's coming close," Tris shrugged again. "But when I whispered something to him, he maintained Clay was the director, and that means we have to at least put up with him, if not agree with him, and since he is still new at acting, he didn't feel as if he could correct yet. Also he said he doesn't know Agatha Christie's work as well as Alfred Hitchcock, and maybe Claymore might be right."

"Well, that is confoundedly agreeable for Fontenot," Carolyn laughed. "I'll bet if push comes to shove, he will say something, though. Or your brother will. Maybe things will get better; after all, _My Fair Lady_ ended up doing well — terrific, in fact."

"I hope!" Tristan sighed again. "Rehearsals started on October first, and we have another thirteen days before the show. I just wish we could practice every night, but with community theater, you just can't do that. Everyone in the cast has other commitments, including spirits, and the entire cast does not consist of ghosts, so it's not like we can work eighteen hour days like when we were fixing up Jess and Adam's house. We have to skip a night occasionally, like tonight, with the fraternity meeting, and because we haven't had a poker night in ages, we are doing that tomorrow and having a Saturday rehearsal. That works better this week for Darlene, Abner, Norrie, and Michael, too, and it probably won't be the last Saturday one, either. The show goes on one way or the other Halloween weekend," Tris continued. "Friday the 29th and Saturday the 30th. We're almost sold out now, because everyone thinks it will be as good as _Lady,_ so there is no way we can cancel…"

"Do you think you will need to?" Carolyn's eyebrows shot up. "Is it really that bad?"

Tris shrugged again. "I hope not, but I DO wish the Captain could watch a rehearsal and put a bug in old Clay's ear — NOW before things go too far. The money is going to the Seaman's home, and you KNOW what your husband will say if there is a disappointed audience."

"Something loud…" Carolyn laughed. "…I have no doubt. So, tell me all. Every last detail. Maybe then I can let Daniel know what is happening, and he can talk to Claymore as no one else can! But, I'd best not tell him to put a bug in Clay's ear. He did give him an irate bumblebee after Claymore's first play!"

"Okay, thanks, "Tristan began, "I am worried, just a bit. For openers, Molly and Sean have all their dialogue memorized. I do, so does Fontenot, and Sig does… he just has to learn to say it slower. But, blast it, this is a drama, and a mystery. It's supposed to take place at a big old house on an island, and there is a lot of blocking involved, the sets are complicated, and Claymore is changing his mind every other day about what he wants. Even if ninety-percent of the audience knows who dun it, it all still has to makes sense. We have Claymore with his cupcake routine, and Darlene Hassenpepper thinks Emily ought to be nicer — not so old maidish spinsterish and mean — and it is a real shame that she is going to get murdered. We keep telling her that's the idea, but she's being a REAL pain. I wish the Captain were acting in this, too. He could shut Darlene up. Claymore too. I'm glad all I have to do is play the Indian's song before I 'die,' but I tell you that feels weird. Not the dying — I mean. I can sing, but not like Sean and Molly can! I know you say don't panic, but you aren't the one up there singing, and I still think SOMEONE in the audience is going to say, "Why are YOU singing? Sean and Molly should be singing," and not only that…"

Carolyn nodded and listened. Clearly she was right in her thinking. Tristan Matthews had a lot to talk about. She did have to laugh when Tris said, getting back to Claymore, "You know, if he ever calls ME cupcake, I'll have to get Martha to make a pan of them, and every time he says the word, shove one in his mouth."

"Lynne might get upset. His diet is supposed to be controlled," Carolyn advised.

"Yeah. The idea of him as a ghost is all that's saving his life, some days."

The two chatted for a good while more. During their talk, the mail came, bringing with it a stiff envelope of photos from Jon. Back in September, he had come home for a weekend to celebrate Amberly's birthday, and had made pictures. The two looked over the shots, and when Tris left, he took a set home to the baby's parents.

XXX

Moments after their departure, the four ghosts reappeared in the great hall of the spectral fraternity.

"Touch ostentatious, isn't it?" Sean commented to Molly. "I think they've done some redecorating."

"It has been a while since we were here," Captain Gregg reminded him.

"Looks like a good turnout," Dash noted. "I see Fontenot."

"Aye, and there's Elroy," Molly smiled.

"I think Tris and Sig are the only ones not here," her husband nodded. "Say, Danny, isn't that Trevor Norfolk? I didn't know he was a ghost."

Daniel peered in the direction his oldest friend was pointing. "Indeed it is! He was a cabin boy at the same time we were! I say, hadn't thought of him in ages!"

"Go on and see him then, I can tell you're both itchin' to," Molly shooed them. "I want to look around. And, Dash…"

"Don't mind me, I'll find someone to chat up," the nobleman waved a dismissive hand at them. "Have fun."

Time didn't really have any relevance. People were seeing friends that they had not seen in decades, or centuries, in some cases. Finally, a ghost who had the air of one who would look old even if he only appeared to be a child took the podium. By this time, Daniel and his closest friends had regrouped and were standing together while waiting for Daniel to give his demonstration. Molly was talking about a new friend she had made — a woman in the theatre business.

"Looks like things are starting to get underway," Dash noted, adjusting his cuffs.

"Friends, ghosts, and countrymen," the old ghost began in a stentorian voice, "welcome to the fourteen-hundred and fifth meeting of the New England Area Spectral Fraternity. I see we have some old friends joining us." The spirit stopped and cleared his throat. "I apologize in advance, but the agenda for the meeting tonight is rather full…"

"Hrmph," Fontenot snorted. "If I'd recalled HE was president this century, I'd have not come."

"Oh?" Molly asked, puzzled.

"Old fuddy-duddy, that's what he is…"

"Shh," Elroy whispered.

Tris had been right. Within minutes, Daniel realized why he had stopped coming to fraternity meetings to begin with. Humans were much more interesting, especially the ones he had been associating with. One look at Sean and Dash confirmed that they were feeling the same way he was... and underneath it all was the underlying concern about whether they would be needed by Thom and Candy while they were unreachable.

Painfully, Daniel and crew listened while the meeting droned on, discussing such topics as,_ What To Do If The Humans In Your House Hire a Medium, Finding a Nice Haunt, Timing Scare Tactics_, and Halloween — an event that the specters looked forward to, for many and assorted reasons.

"Now, before we get to the trancing demonstration, any more new business?" the president spoke up. When no spirit answered, it looked like they could do the blasted thing and go home.

"Excuse me…" a cultured voice drawled. "I do have something to say before Daniel Gregg and his associates…" he gave the crew a disdainful look. "…Start their dog and pony show."

Fontenot rolled his eyes.

"I beg your pardon?" Daniel started.

"Who is that?" Molly whispered to Fontenot.

"Baron Von Dragon," Fontenot sighed. "A three-hundred-fifty-year-old thorn positioned somewhat lower than my side, sweet lady. He and I have been arguing over the issue of humans and ghosts intermingling for centuries. And if I am not mistaken…"

"What?" Elroy interrupted.

"We'll know in a moment…" Fontenot sighed. "But I have a feeling…"

"I can see that no one else here has the fortitude to say anything, so I will, " the Baron continued, as Daniel glared. "It has come to my attention that a problem is spreading throughout ghostdom. In the last few years, a disturbing phenomenon has begun to plague our little community. Ghosts no longer know their place in this world. In fact, they are openly consorting with humans, even to the point of romance! And getting publicity! Tonight's presentation, if you can call it that, is proof that this is so! Entering a trance simply so you can, if I may put it delicately…" He bowed to the female specters present, including Molly and her new friend, "…BE with a human while they sleep is deplorable, and…"

"Excuse me…" Daniel started. "…But I believe I have the floor?"

The sophisticated ghost merely glared at Daniel Gregg.

"Some things do not change. You can always count on Baron Von Dragon to get on this subject and try to beat it to… death," Fontenot grumbled, too loudly.

"I think old Wolfston was his… disciple, wasn't he?" Dash asked. "Von Dragon — You don't often hear of someone so aptly named," he went on, almost too calmly.

"Oh, Von Dragon isn't his real name," Fontenot said. "Someone nicknamed him that a while back, and it stuck."

"Tristan?" Sean asked. "It sounds like something he'd say."

"Anything sounds like something he'd say," Dash almost smiled. Almost, but not quite. He was getting angry.

"No, but certainly his — spiritual ancestor," Fontenot chuckled.

"What IS his name then?" Molly asked, absently patting Elroy's shoulder to try and calm his shaking.

"No one can recall," Fontenot rumbled.

"... I had hopes that at least one of these delinquents had reformed," Von Dragon was still speaking, "…but it has come to my attention that he is responsible for this… demonstration we are about to witness here. I can see that he doesn't even have the fortitude to show up here in person, and—"

"That tears it!" Daniel growled. Raising his voice, he turned to the Baron. "Sir, while you do have the right to your opinion, I fail to see what gives you the freedom to say that we are some sort of abomination for interacting with humans! We have not harmed them, in fact, the case could be made that we have helped them!"

"Here, here!" his crew echoed.

"Besides, you are interrupting," Elroy squeaked out.

"Right!" Molly chimed in, giving Elroy another pat of encouragement. "The Captain has the floor!"

"I merely want to do this blasted thing and go home," Dash said, looking angrier than any of the other spirits had ever seen him.

"Home! Home you call it!" the Baron blazed. "A place where you consort with humans is not your home!"

"Yes, Lord Dashire…" another voice came from the back of the room. "What right have you to…"

"The same right I have!" Sean cut in. "Where I haunt IS my home, and it is where I'll be forever if the Good Lord sees fit, or not, but it is my home as long as Molly and my friends are there!"

"Friends?" someone yelled. "That's right — you lot go on telling humans right and left about us! How many now? They even had the government after them!"

"If you can call Paul Wilkie government!" Dash spat back.

"And we didn't let him know there are ghosts in this area!" Sean protested. "We sent him to Ireland."

"Callahan's always been very open about being haunted!" Daniel roared. "Blasted proud of having the great ghost of his not-very-great-ancestor chain rattling around the place."

"Still," another voice argued, "you have told—"

"Not to mention married or courted—"

Other shouts joined in with Von Dragon's as pro and con arguments and insults flew. Poor Elroy was shaking like a leaf and trying to hide, but nowhere looked particularly safe.

"Dragon, it's time someone took you down!" Fontenot fumed.

"Who? You?"

"With just my left thumb, you—"

"Can ghosts hit each other?" Elroy hissed, turning almost transparent.

Before the two ancient spirits could lie into each other, an alto voice rose above the tumult.

"Excuse me, but would you all kindly shut up, and stop this nonsense?" A stately female ghost strode forward.

"That's my friend, Bronwyn," Molly softly told Sean.

With a glance at Daniel's crew, she went on. "These good people are hardly the first ghosts to exist as if they were still alive, or the only ones. I've been doing it for, well, a lady does not bandy her age about, but — decades. The theatre is just too much fun to abandon simply because of a little thing like death. They are the first to come up with the idea of trancing, however, and that is the only reason I, for one, am here. I was visiting the area, and heard that this lesson would be given today. It's fascinating. If you, Baron, do not want to know how, fine. I don't think there's to be a... pop quiz, but be SILENT and let those of us who appreciate learning be educated. Of course, I wouldn't be surprised if Captain Gregg didn't refuse to instruct such an ungrateful bunch of rabble as this," she sniffed.

The President looked completely flummoxed. Did he risk insulting the Baron by asking the Captain to continue, or risk insulting Daniel Gregg by canceling? Or, the biggest consideration, insult a lady?

Daniel and Sean's old friend, Trevor, spoke up, "I'd like to learn, Cap'n, later, if you want to leave."

A few more mumbles agreed with him, and Daniel turned a look that could be interpreted as a dare or a question to the President.

Faced with this, the creaky spook cleared his throat. "Ah, well, this has run on for some time, but perhaps the Captain and his crew would consent to go on with their… er… demonstration?"

Inclining his head regally, the Captain said, "Of course. As my human friend, Reverend O'Ryan, would say, forgiveness is blessed. One of my crew did invent this, but since there has been illness in my family, we felt that one of us should be on hand to provide instant communication and help if there was an emergency. However, I believe I can do as well as he."

On that note, he gestured for Fontenot, Elroy, and Molly to join him on the dais and thus demonstrate that any ghost, no matter how old, unskilled, or of either sex could achieve this state of rest. He even allowed an audience member to come forward and take a "live" lesson, with admirable results. After that was concluded, Daniel and the others went over to Bronwyn.

"I want to thank you, Miss, for being a voice of reason, as it were, in the chaos," the Captain said chivalrously.

The striking woman smiled. "Not at all, sir. I simply stated the truth." She shrugged, then extended her hand for the Captain to kiss. "I know who you are, of course, from your wonderful instructions, and from Molly. I'm Bronwyn Tegan."

"You mentioned the theatre — you're still active?" Sean asked.

"Yes. I can't stay with one company long, unless I want to age myself." Bronwyn shuddered. "But, moving about is the norm, really, for that line of work. Still, it sounds like you all have a rather sweet set-up… real families."

"That we do," Daniel nodded.

"Would you like to meet them all?" Molly asked her. "Captain, would you mind if we brought Bronwyn home to meet Carolyn, Lynne, and the rest?"

"It is fine with me..." the ghost began.

"But, Molly, love, in the real world, it's nigh on eleven o'clock," Sean reminded her. "I imagine Carolyn's asleep."

"And I do hope Lynne is. She's been exhausting herself since Thom came home from the hospital," Dash frowned.

"Perhaps another night. I'm between… gigs," Bronwyn smiled.

"We'd planned to resume the poker and ladies' night tomorrow," the Captain said, considering. "But there is room for one more."

"If you'll tell me where you're staying, I'll come show the way," Molly offered.

"I'd like that," Bronwyn said. "Now, I believe I'll go haunt a hotel room and try out this trancing. My thanks to you all for teaching me a new trick."

XXX

Sean O'Casey had been right. By the time the four friends said their goodnights and good-byes to the members of the fraternity and materialized back to the mortal plain, it was after eleven p.m. The ghosts went their separate ways from there. Sean and Molly to their cottage, Dash back to the house he had haunted for almost a century that was now occupied by Candy and Thom, and Daniel home to Gull Cottage. Carolyn was dozing by the fire, in the armchair, surrounded by their animals, Tristan having departed some time before.

"Love, will you ever learn that the best place to sleep when you are tired, is our bed?" Daniel smiled, as he spoke the words softly into her ear.

"I wasn't sleeping, I was…"

"Resting, I know," he gazed at her, tenderly.

"How was the meeting?" She yawned the words out. "Anything interesting?"

"Deadly dull for the most part," he said, helping her up out of the chair after removing two indignant cats. "But…"

"That's nice." Carolyn yawned again. Not hearing the "But." "You should go to them more often. It would be fun to go with you some time."

"You have no idea of what you speak, my love," he said soberly. "And I refuse to discuss my boring meeting with you tonight." He started to lead her to the stairs.

"Okay," she said, agreeably, her eyes half-closed, leaning on her husband. "You can tell me how bored you were tomorrow."

They headed for the master cabin, the animals trailing behind them.

XXX

The next morning, Carolyn simply did not have enough time to hear about the debacle at the spectral fraternity meeting. She needed to get half-a-dozen errands done, and when she came home, Martha's vacuum made entirely too much noise for Daniel to relate his story. Then, when the mail came, that reminded Carolyn to show Daniel the pictures from Amberly's first birthday party. In short, by the time Daniel and Carolyn both had a chance to discuss it, the time for the guests to arrive was almost upon them, and there was little point in telling it twice.

Martha was already there. Her husband, Ed, clumped in through the back door as the first true arrival. Sean and Molly popped in long enough for Molly to double-check with Carolyn that it would be all right to bring a friend, then she departed. Tristan entered with Dave, Jenny, and Amberly Farnon. Blackie was close behind, half dragging his aunt, Lynne. His other aunt, Jess, and her husband Adam Pierce had Candy between them, with Dash following behind. Last, but not least, Siegfried and Fontenot appeared.

"You two are going to give us a complex, make us think you don't want our company," Adam chided Lynne and Candy.

"We're just worried about Thom," Lynne frowned.

"Yeah, it's his first night on his own since coming home," Candy nodded.

"And one I will remind you he dearly wanted. We're all guilty of hovering," Blackie reminded them. "And he won't be "all alone." A couple of guys from work were going to be visiting him. Now, my dear aunt and dear cousin, did you really want to watch football with them?"

"Good point," Lynne said.

"Well..." Candy considered, then smiled, "maybe, but… I like you guys better than football. It wouldn't be so bad if there weren't commercials and all the time outs making an hour long game four hours."

"Minimum," Jess agreed.

"Where is Molly?" Dave asked. "Oh, and thanks for sending the pictures, Carolyn."

"Apparently, she made a new friend at the spectral fraternity meeting last night," Mrs. Gregg said. "Darling, you never told me, how did it all go?"

"I'm not sure you want to know, Mom," Candy hissed. "Uncle Dash told me about it."

"It was boring, at first," Sean started to say. "But, then..."

Thunder echoed. "It did not remain so," Daniel said. "Baron Von Dragon began attacking my crew for our fraternization with humans."

"_Do what?"_ Lynne yelped. She gave Charles a quick glance. It had never occurred to her that the ghosts she had grown fond... used to… could be made to leave... or could they?

Simultaneously, Carolyn gasped, "Not that again! I thought we were through with that issue when Admiral What's His Name—"

"Wolfston," Daniel supplied.

"—Made his peace with you before we got married."

"Oh, yes," the Captain nodded grimly. "I was not sure I would get to demonstrate the trancing—"

"Pardon me," Siegfried said, holding up a hand for attention.

With some annoyance at being interrupted, Daniel turned to the other ghost. "Yes?"

"Doyoumeantotellme, thatMYBROTHER, whowassupposedtogivethatlectureshirkedhisduty?" Siegfried demanded icily.

"You could say that he deferred the honor," Daniel said, with consideration.

"Yes," Tristan nodded. "Captain Gregg conveys MUCH more… authority… than I."

"LITTLEBROTHER,IDIDNOTRAISEYOUTO—"

Suddenly, as if someone had shut off a spigot, the tirade fell silent and Siegfried's eyes grew round. His face drained of all color as he stared at a spot near the door.

"Siegfried, are you all right? I hate to say it this way, but you're pale as a ghost," Carolyn fretted, glancing at her husband first and then her friends.

"Sig?" Lynne prompted.

Tristan would have waved a hand in front of his brother's face, but decided he preferred this state to the yelling. Perhaps a miracle had happened; he'd always thought it would take one to shut Sig up when he was on a tirade.

Sean's eyes followed the other ghost's, but he grinned. "Molly, love. You're back, with…"

"…Bronwyn," Siegfried hissed.

The lady lifted her chin. "As I… live and breathe, so to speak. I take it that the farm's super-glue wore off after a few years? As I recall, you could not bring yourself to leave it."

Jenny and Candy edged over to Tristan. "Who's that?" the two 'sisters' whispered.

"No idea," Tris shrugged. "She must be someone he met after I left."

"No, Tristan, she… I knew Bronwyn long before. You were but a child at the time," Siegfried said heavily.

Her cool gaze turned to the younger ghost. "So, you are the baby brother?"

Irritation replaced curiosity. "I grew up."

"So I see. And…" Bronwyn looked at Jenny. "You are Isolde?"

"Er… no. I'm alive," Jenny flushed. "You weren't joking about me looking like her, huh, guys?"

"No, my dear girl," Sig allowed, never taking his eyes off the newcomer.

"Not to be rude or ignorant, but Blackie and Jess can sense ghosts, so, can't you guys, or ladies, do the same?" Martha asked.

"Most of us can," Tristan replied brightly, still smarting over the "baby brother" remark.

Bronwyn gave him a cold glare. "I believe we all can, and at will, most of us can turn off the power, to level the field, as it were, in mixed company. Of course, now I can see that this young lady is not a ghost. She simply looks as I fancied Isolde would when she grew up. Are you her great-grandchild?"

"I don't think so," Jenny replied. "I did a family tree once, and there weren't any Matthews on it, but my mother was adopted, so maybe. I don't know much about that side of the family, just about the Williams side. Carolyn and Candy's side."

"I don't recall ever meeting you," Tris frowned.

"I do remember you. You and Isolde were quite young, and, as I recall, when I hadn't brought you a present, you stuck your tongue out at me," Bronwyn laughed.

Flushing, the younger ghost searched for some cutting retort.

Meanwhile, his brother scowled more deeply. "Do you have a purpose in coming here, beyond insulting my brother?" Siegfried asked tersely. "Or turning the knife a little deeper in my heart?"

"YOUR—?" Bronwyn started to exclaim, and then checked her words. "I came here at Molly's invitation. We met at the fraternity meeting yesterday."

The Captain decided it was time to intervene. "Yes, Bronwyn spoke up in our favor when the Dragon began his vitriolic speech." He glanced at Tristan, and then continued. "And, Bronwyn, Tristan is the one who invented the trancing technique."

"Aye," Molly said. "You were tellin' me how much you enjoyed it, last night."

Their guest nodded, still staring hard at Siegfried. "How did you arrive here? I thought you could not be budged from your blasted farm."

"I had no choice in the matter," Sig bit out. "And I never would have wanted you to give up your dreams. Which, of course, you did not, I take it?"

"Choice? You never gave me one!"

Across the room, Jess kicked Adam and whispered, "You're a lawyer, do something."

"Sweetheart, this kicking thing of yours really needs to be remedied," he muttered. "What can I do?"

Thunder rattled the house. Carolyn looked at Captain Gregg, her brows lifted.

"It was not I, my dear," Daniel said.

"I never thunder in another man's house," Dash said.

"Forgive me, Carolyn," Molly said, turning red, but whether from ire or shame was unclear. "I… "Lost it," as the girls might say. I just…"

"No, forgive me, Mrs. Gregg," Siegfried said, more formally than usual. "It is rude of me to berate your guests. Now, I really should see about—"

"Siegfried," Carolyn said firmly.

"She's right," Bronwyn said. "We are both adults, who apparently have friends in common. I can be civil to you for an evening."

"As can I to you," the other ghost said gruffly.

"Molly, perhaps you could introduce me to your family?" Bronwyn prompted.

The Irish ghost nodded and began reciting the who's-who of the Gregg crew.

XXX

There was a tense moment, then Adam looked around the room to the other men and said, "Excuse me, but it's been a while since I cleaned you guys out. Pennies don't grow on trees, so can we get started?" As the men, relieved, nodded their assent and headed toward the dining room at the back of the house, Carolyn picked up her husband's cue.

"Come on, Lynne, Candy, Bronwyn — all of you! How long has it been since we all had a good girl talk?"

"Um, right," Molly agreed. "Well, here we are. I'll get the coffee things."

"There's enough of us that two sets of hands would be better," Martha said. "I'll go with you."

It took the women a little longer to get settled for the evening than it took the men to start dealing cards. Jenny took a few minutes to get Amberly situated in her portable playpen, Candy had brought some needlepoint to do, Martha pulled out her knitting, Lynne some crewel work and Carolyn her mending, once more working on Amberly's rompers. Jess had brought the multiple-choice quizzes she had given in three of her classes that needed grading, made easier with a stencil of the answers. It was routine, but she liked doing the work herself instead of handing such things over to a student helper, maintaining it helped her keep touch with how they were all doing, more so than just marking the results down in her grade book.

But, anyone who knew Jessamyn Thomas-Pierce at all well could tell that grading papers was the last thing on her mind. She was fairly brimming over with curiosity. All the women were, really, but most of them contained it just a tad better. When they were all settled, with coffee and whatnot, Jess started.

"So, Bronwyn. You know Siegfried?"

For a moment, Bronwyn appeared as if she might not answer, then she spoke up, "At least, I thought I did. But, that's really not a good topic. I'd much rather hear about you all. I may have interacted with the living for several decades now, but they've never known who, or should I say, what, I am. Tell me about you, all of you."

"Of course," Carolyn nodded, giving Jess, who was sitting next to her, a nudge she hoped the new female in the group wouldn't catch. "Some things are... personal. We understand."

"Besides, we have a lot to tell," Lynne continued. "Carolyn, you have been here the longest. You start."

"Me?" Carolyn looked a little startled. "Well, yes, I guess I have." She smiled, reminiscently. "I moved here to Gull Cottage with Candy and Jonathan — I'm sure you will meet my son later, he's away at college, at present — in the fall of 1968. Claymore, you haven't met him either, owned Gull Cottage then. That's this house, in case Daniel didn't tell you, and he leased it to me. Claymore, I mean, not Daniel. Supposedly Clay is Daniel's great-nephew, and…"

"Don't let the Captain hear you say that," Martha interjected. "I can hear him now. _'I'm the only son of an only son and I have never met Claymore's blasted grandmother in my life'!"_

"Right," Carolyn nodded. "Martha moved here with us also. She was my housekeeper then."

"Still am, once a week or so," Martha added.

"Yes, anyway, I had been widowed for a few years, and wanted to make a fresh start, away from Philadelphia, where I was born, raised and married. When we arrived, I found out two reasons we had gotten a good deal on the house; one, it was falling apart—"

"Amen," Martha sighed.

"And two, Daniel was haunting it and didn't want anyone sharing his 'space,' but Claymore, is well, you might say..."

"Careful?" Molly offered, grinning.

"A tightwad?" Candy suggested.

"Stingy," Martha said, at the same time.

"...So he had to rent the place to get out of a tight spot." Carolyn recapped the family's first few years in the house, how they had left, and come home, thanks to Dash and Claymore. Molly then spoke of Sean's entrance into the Muirs' lives, and Martha told the story of Tristan's noisy arrival. From there, Candy picked up the skeleton story. Jenny told how she'd been orphaned. They glossed over Tristan's exit, return, and Sig's chasing his brother down. Then, Carolyn related how she'd fretted over Sean's sadness until Molly returned to his life. Lynne put in her two cents on how she'd caused Candy's first fight, sort of, then Jess told how she'd arrived, and Adam had almost stopped a plane for her. Then, she lit up, talking about the home the ghosts had made for them. Finally, Candy told Bronwyn their current status, with Thom recovering from a wreck.

With Bronwyn brought up to speed, as it were, there was a slight lull in the conversation, then Jess, who had finally finished her paper grading, spoke up again.

"So, Molly, you started to tell us, but we got… uhm, sidetracked." She gave Bronwyn a quick glance and continued. "We never did hear the end of Daniel's story about the lizard guy. How'd it end up?"

Bronwyn let out a hearty laugh.

"Lizard! Now that's a good name for that… well, I don't know what he is, except a fool." She smiled and poured another cup of coffee from the pot. "Not a lizard, although I really like that — Von Dragon. That's his name, Baron Von Dragon. If first impressions mean anything, I think he is a pompous idiot. He tried to stop the trancing demonstration, got the whole fraternity hall in an uproar, Captain Gregg, Lord Dashire, Sean and Molly…" She stopped and smiled at her new friend, "were getting ready to pop out, or throw a punch. I'm not sure which, and, well, I—" she broke off suddenly. "I—"

"What Bronwyn is trying not to do, is brag," Molly cut in. "Bronwyn told Von Dragon off! Basically she told him to shut up and leave if he didn't like it and managed to get the crowd calmed down, or at least LISTENING, again instead of shouting at each other."

"How did you get their attention?" Jess asked. "A room full of noisy guys — I have enough trouble trying to get my students to settle down sometimes."

Bronwyn gave a graceful shrug.

"I just talked loud enough to be heard, I guess," she answered. "My father always did say I had a voice that could be heard clearly in the biggest theater. They stopped and listened, I said my piece, and that was that."

"When I was younger, I wanted to be an actress," Jenny piped up. "But I also found out early on, put me on stage, or in front of a big crowd, and I freeze. Any stage, any time, anywhere. I just am not a good public speaker, but oh, how I admire those who can!"

"Martha has performed on the stage," Carolyn said.

The older woman half smiled, then reminded her in an undertone, "So have you, honey-baby-sweetie."

"I meant in a professional capacity," Carolyn grinned back. "I'm strictly Amateur Night."

Bronwyn nodded. "I heard. Martha, you are playing Mrs. Rogers in the Agatha Christie play Molly told me about?"

"Yes," the older woman nodded.

"But she's acted before," Carolyn grinned again. "Vaudeville, back in the twenties, right, Martha?"

"I didn't know that!" Linden exclaimed, "Martha, why didn't you tell us?"

"_The Last of the Red Hot Mamas_ was a long time ago," Martha blushed. "Nobody wants to hear about that."

"You were one of that trio?" Bronwyn gave the older woman a big smile. "Why, I remember seeing you! At least I think it was you! New Jersey, nineteen-twenty-five — the Jazz Age. There were you and — let me think — you had sisters. Marcia and Margo, right? And your big number was _One of these Days!"_

Martha's eyes grew wide. "That's right! That was our act! Marcia and Margo weren't really my sisters though, that was just a part of the gimmick. You really saw us perform?"

"Absolutely," Bronwyn nodded. "You three were good! What happened to the act?"

"Marcia was called home to take care of her mother, and Margo got married," Martha said, matter-of-factly. "There really wasn't an act after that. Stuff happens. But enough about me, I want to hear about you!"

"Me, too," said Candy. "But Martha, I can't believe you did that and never told us about that part! We just got to see you sing the song once." Then to Bronwyn, she added, "It must be fun, traveling with troupes the way you do, and for so…" she stopped and blushed. Perhaps their new friend didn't want to talk about EXACTLY how long she had been alive, or how old she was when she died.

"Right. Hey." Jess broke in, too excited to keep still. "I just realized that you're a brand new historical person all come to life — living history, as it were, like the other ghosts hereabouts. You must have dozens of first-hand stories, and lots of stuff not in text books, just like Captain Gregg and Dash and Sean and, well, everyone. Are you from Schooner Bay? I just gotta get some stories from you. Blast, I wish I had a tape recorder! I mean face it, of the ghosts we know, nobody grew up around the theater. Four spent their lives at sea, mostly, Fontenot doesn't hardly ever talk, and the sixth is a farmer and for someone who talks a lot, there are a few things we don't know, and…" Jess stopped suddenly, having turned bright red, but their visitor seemed to take no notice.

"I've spent my life in the theater," Bronwyn answered. "What is it they call it now, from that old… was it Judy Garland movie? I was born in a trunk." She smiled easily. "My mother and father were show folk, and made their living traveling from county to county, town to town, city to city, with their own troupe. I think there were about thirty of us players, all told. Father was the owner/manager. I was born during their run of _Much Ado About Nothing_ they were doing in Shropshire, at the time."

"I bet you've got a zillion stories!" Jess beamed. "You are staying for a while, aren't you? I'd love to hear at least a hundred of them."

"We all would," Carolyn chimed in.

"And, Thom'll want to meet you, I know," Candy said. "But his travel is restricted for a while longer."

"We sure could use a professional's opinion of the play," Martha added, shaking her head.

"I don't know…" Bronwyn hesitated. Without her volition, the ghost's dark eyes slipped back toward the door separating the women and men.

"He will behave," Lynne promised.

"Ye could stay with Sean and me. We've ample room," Molly offered. "And we've only had one overnight guest in all our time married."

Then, out of the blue, one of the kittens, TJ, roused from his nap on the windowsill. Blinking, the little critter scampered across the room and up onto Bronwyn's lap. She barely remembered to re-solidify in time. "My goodness!"

"That's TJ, isn't it?" Candy asked. "He doesn't usually get along with strangers."

"Nope. Other than the climbing, Junior's nothing like Tris," Jenny agreed.

"See, you've got to stay, you've won over the unwinnable kitten," Carolyn urged.

For a moment longer, Bronwyn looked conflicted, and then she nodded. "Yes. I'd love to."

XXX

The men's game was considerably less cheerful, although Sig did approach it with forced _joie de vive_.

"Right. Now that it's just us, let's get to it!"

The other men exchanged glances. Adam pursed his lips, as if to hold back the twenty questions he would love to have asked. For once, Tristan decided discretion was the better part of valor, and did not pepper his brother with nosy comments. The older ghosts all had experience with secrets, so it was less difficult for them to keep their curiosity in check. Once or twice, Dave or Blackie tried to start a conversation, but Siegfried's antzyness quelled their attempts.

After only a few hands, Siegfried shook his head. "Gentlemen, the cards are not my friends this day. I can seem to do nothing but lose, and I would like to check on that horse that was giving me problems last night. Jim Wight just does not know horses. You will give my regards to my hostess and your ladies? Excellent, thank you." On that note, he popped out.

Immediately, the tension that had weighted the air dissipated, but no one's heart was really in the game.

XXX

When the guys judged that the women had gabbed enough and Adam had won two dollars' worth of pennies, Daniel knocked on the connecting door. "Would you ladies consider re-gracing us with your delightful presences?" As he opened the door, eight pairs of eyes stared back at him in surprise.

"Are you already done with your game?" Carolyn asked, startled.

"It's been hours, my dear," he replied with a tug on his ear.

"Well, time does fly when you're having fun," Jess essayed as she rose to stretch. Cocking her head, she glanced from her sister to her niece. "Do you two realize you've spent an entire evening without worrying and freaking?"

Shock and guilt flickered over Lynne and Candy's faces.

"And I'm sure that will please Thom," Carolyn said firmly.

"No wonder Amberly's asleep! It's ten-thirty!" Jenny gasped.

When Sean joined his Captain at the door, Molly caught his eye. "Darlin', Bronwyn's going to be staying with us for a while."

He shrugged. "That's fine."

"Thank you, Mr. O'Casey," Bronwyn said formally. Her eyes darted over the men milling behind Daniel. "Siegfried has left?"

"Equine emergency," Daniel explained.

"Of course. He found a farm here, I take it?"

"Not really. Local riding stable," Dave told her, reaching out to take his sleeping daughter. "Our vet's not up on horses, unless 'Kota counts." He reached down to pat the shaggy dog's head.

"If you want to send him a message, I'll tell him," the doctor offered.

The actress' jaw tensed just slightly. "Merely curious. It was lovely to meet all of you. I'm sure we'll see each other again before I leave."

"I think we'd best be goin' then," Sean nodded. "Ladies."

The trio vanished, and soon the rest of the family had all followed suit in one way or another. Before Tristan could teleport out, Daniel stopped him. After fourteen years, he knew Carolyn would want to speak to the youngest Matthews.

"Yes, Captain?"

Daniel glanced at his wife expectantly.

"Tris, what can you tell us about Siegfried and Bronwyn?" Mrs. Gregg asked.

He shrugged. "I know no more than you. I've tried to remember her, but if she was someone he met before our dad's accident... Look, until Sig became the family patriarch, he was simply my annoying, boring older brother. Issy and I didn't pay much attention to him, nor he to us. And his courting habits were of even less concern, that is, until the lasses might become our mother, so to speak. And Miss Tegan was not one of that group." He shook his head. "I would guess that their parting was not especially amicable, and I did hear a note of resentment in her tone, when she mentioned the farm. Not sure she liked me much, either. That baby brother remark." He frowned. "Nah. Impossible. How could she not like me? I'm sorry, Mrs. Captain. I'm just IN a mystery; solving one's another matter."

"That's all right, lad," Daniel assured him.

"If I find out anything, unless Sig swears me to secrecy, I'll let you two know."

XXX

Sean O'Casey showed up at Gull Cottage for the foursome's usual Saturday morning breakfast about nine o'clock Saturday morning, sans Molly, offering his wife's apologies, and announcing that Molly was giving Bronwyn a tour of the town, and if it was all right, could Bronwyn join the other couple for the dinner the four had planned earlier instead?

Looking at his wife and getting her approval, Daniel nodded also. "Of course. The women in our little clan rather had Miss Tegan all to themselves yesterday evening. Carolyn has been telling me a bit about her history, and I must say, I wouldn't mind hearing some of her stories myself. For instance, Bronwyn witnessed the very first production of _Pygmalion,_ in 1916, AND watched _My Fair Lady _open on Broadway in 1956! Can you imagine, being around and in the right place and right time to see both versions? Live? Not even ghosts can always count on being able to do that!"

"I think that's why I like time travel stories so much," Carolyn said. "I'd love to do another story where the hero or heroine can travel through time and space at will and observe things they were too young, especially, to see the first time around. You know, interact with people in that time, as long as they don't change history, or anything."

"I think you just have a crush on that actor who played that phonetics professor, originally," Daniel grumbled, slightly. "What's his name? He was in_ Doctor Dolittle _too — Harrison?"

"Rex Harrison, or the actor who replaced him, either one. Edward Mulhare took over for Harrison after he left the Broadway production," Carolyn nodded, giving her a husband a look. Smiling, she reached up and smoothed away his slight frown. "No reason to be jealous, darling… I only admire those two actors because they look a bit like you."

"Balderdash," the seaman said, taking his wife's hand and kissing it. "I'm not jealous, and neither of them look a bit like me."

"It's the truth," Sean said. "Actually, I have noticed a slight resemblance myself, Danny."

"Poppycock." Wrapping an arm around his wife's waist, Daniel led her and Sean toward the kitchen. When they had settled, Sean gave Daniel Gregg a close look.

"So, Daniel, any ideas what is goin' on with Siegfried and Miss Tegan? Did Tris spill anything, or may I ask?"

"You can ask, but I can't give you any answers, old friend." Daniel smiled. "Not because I don't want to, but because I don't know… and because Tris doesn't know. Really." His glance shifted to Carolyn.

"Don't ask me," his wife shrugged. "Jess blurted out some question last night about how long, or how she knows Sig, But Bronwyn was reluctant to answer, and I didn't want to push. Not my place — or anyone's really. If she wants to tell us, she will. Perhaps she OR Sig will, after they work out their differences, if there are any to work out. In the meantime, I think if she says anything to anyone, it will be to Molly."

"Than it will remain a mystery," Sean smiled. "If there is anything my wife is good at, is keeping a secret. Most irritating at times, but probably for the best." Smiling, he took another sip of coffee. "I wouldn't have her any other way, really. Molly did say that Bronwyn would be attending church with us tomorrow. She wants to hear us sing our duet."

"What are you doing this week?" Carolyn asked.

"_I Come to the Garden Alone,"_ Sean answered. "We've been working on it for two weeks now."

"You'll do wonderfully," Daniel nodded. "You always do."

"Thank-you, Danny," Sean grinned. "I want to sing with Molly, naturally, but I think I am interested in our social hour after church even more."

"Why?" Carolyn queried, raising an eyebrow.

"I want to see the look on the land-shark's face… that is Mrs. … Miss Coburn, Sharpe, whatever she is going by these days," Sean grinned. "I don't think that lady likes competition, and Bronwyn certainly outshines her in the looks department! Of course…" He added with a bow, "almost everyone does, especially you, Carolyn, naturally my Molly! Still…" He gave them a look. "It will be a sight to see!"

The ghost and his lady burst out in laughter.

XXX

The morning flew by for Molly and Bronwyn as they toured Schooner Bay. There really wasn't much to see, not for tourists, in any case, but Bronwyn loved hearing how it had changed and stayed the same since Molly's original day. Around noon, although neither lady needed to eat, they headed to Norrie's Lobster House.

Norrie greeted them at the door and introductions were made. Since lunch was a busy time, Molly said they could seat themselves.

"This is where I found Sean again," Molly whispered with a smile. "I'd almost given up hope, but then, right in the middle of my song, he walked in and began singing with me. I leapt right off the stage into his arms. It was like something out of a movie."

Her new friend nodded. "I doubt a modern playwright could script something so lovely, but yes. You are fortunate, Molly, to have a man who will spend so long… Uhm, dedicated to you." Bronwyn's face shuttered. "If I were a writer, it would make a fine stage show, complete with music. Of course, I've never been in a musical. I can't carry a tune in a bucket, but a story about you would have to include songs."

"I know how lucky I am," Molly agreed, tactfully not pressing Bronwyn about the subtle, sad undercurrent she could hear below the other woman's words. "Oh, look, there's Claymore!"

Bronwyn's gaze shifted to look in the indicated direction. "He does not resemble a sword much, does he?"

"I think perhaps his parents were guilty of wishful thinkin'," Molly agreed. "Let me introduce you." The two women moved over to where the reedy man was stirring his chowder listlessly. "Good afternoon, Claymore," Molly said cheerfully.

Automatically, he rose. His uncle's lessons in chivalry had taken somewhat. "Oh, hello, Molly." Then, his eyes brightened as he saw Bronwyn. "And hello, my dear! You're new in town, aren't you?"

"Yes, I just came in yesterday. Bronwyn Tegan," the newcomer nodded. "Carolyn and Molly mentioned you are directing a play?"

"Bronwyn's an actress," Molly added.

"Really? Do join me," Claymore beamed. As the ladies took a seat at his table, he began rhapsodizing about the play and his improvements to it.

"Interesting," Bronwyn said in a pause. Taking a sip of the tea the waitress had just left for her, she commented, "I've never seen a director with such a unique slant in all the productions I've been in or seen of _And Then There Were None_, and I was at the original one."

"Yes, I thought it was a stroke of pure genius, myself," Claymore chuckled, then broke off as the words sank in. "Urk. You're... you're…"

"Yes, quite so," Bronwyn agreed pleasantly.

Claymore's glee turned to despair. "More you-know-what's. There IS enough for a volleyball team now."

"I haven't played often, but it is a fun game," Bronwyn offered.

Claymore shook his head. "Maybe, but even if I put one together, you wouldn't use your mo-jo to win. I tried to get Tristan to put the whammy on his baseball game, and Dashire, too, but no. Said it wouldn't be honorable."

Shaking her head, Molly reminded him, "Claymore, your soup is getting cold."

"I'm really not that hungry," the miser said, unhappily.

"You'll be wasting money if you don't finish it," Molly said.

"Oh, that's right!" With renewed interest, he began attacking the dish.

Just then, the door swung open and Norrie hastened over to see who had come in. Since Molly and Bronwyn were seated with their backs to the door, they could not see, but did hear the proprietor say, "Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Matthews. The doctor and the vet's take-out are ready to go. I'll just get it."

Molly turned to wave at Siegfried, but if he saw her, the ghost gave no indication. He simply stared straight ahead until Norrie brought him a bag. Then, he paid and left.

Frowning, Molly turned back to her companions. "How odd."

"He probably just didn't see us," Claymore shrugged.

"Aye." But she doubted that.

XXX

"Are you sure it will be all right if I attend the gathering tonight, Molly?" Bronwyn asked, a shred of doubt coming to her dark eyes as she looked at her reflection in the hall mirror at Sean and Molly's cottage. "After all, I wasn't expected, and Carolyn and the Captain may not have planned for me to be there..."

"Nonsense," Molly shook her head as she came up behind her friend. "Daniel popped in on Sean more than two hours ago, reminding us, and the message was that Carolyn is expecting all three of us."

"Who all will be there tonight?" Bronwyn queried, still a bit hesitant. "Carolyn and Daniel, you and Sean, Jess and Adam?"

Molly shook her head. "Jess and Adam are at the movies. A showing of _Arsenic and Old Lace _they wanted to see. Blackie will be there..."

"And others, I'm sure," Sean added coming up behind them. "The crowd varies each week, Depending on circumstances. I think Lynne and Charlie are on a not-a-date, but anyone else is anyone's guess. Daniel says Carrie has finally mastered the art of lasagna, but we don't want to be late. If she burns it waiting for us, we will never hear the end of it."

"Right," Molly nodded. "Are you ready, Bronwyn?"

"As ready as I can hope for," the other ghost answered, and with that, the three dematerialized, then reappeared on the front porch of Gull Cottage.

Sig answered the door. The older ghost's eyes lit up at the sight of Sean and Molly and then darkened slightly as they fell on Bronwyn.

"Sean, Molly..." he started. "Glad to see you. I was hoping you would make it, even with the rehearsal this afternoon. Thought you might have to recharge. You have been more busy than usual of late. Come in. Daniel and Carolyn are in the kitchen." His look turned to Bronwyn again. "Youarestillhere?"

"I was invited," she answered slowly.

Sig frowned. "As was I — no, that's wrong. As family, Iwasexpectedtobehere."

Molly gave Sig a slight stare. "Siegfried, Carolyn is waiting for us, and you are letting the heat out."

"Well..." he paused. "Come in, all of you."

Bronwyn almost expected Siegfried to close the door in her face; well, if he did, she'd just pop in. However, he stood aside stiffly to let them enter. Blackie was in the living room, listening to some outrageous story of Tristan's.

"I swear. It's true! On my honor as a gentleman, a seaman, and a member of Daniel Gregg's crew. What could I do but that, when those Callahan brats came home with a pack of kids saying they could control the ghost? The very idea, I mean, really!"

"Still, Tristan, even you can't make ten suits of armor march down the hall all at once to chase off a group of Cub Scouts! Weren't they overly heavy?"

"I told you. It was an illusion. Real armor would have been unwieldy. It moves too slowly. Oh — we've got more guests. Sorry, didn't see you all come in," Tristan broke off, rising.

"That seems to be going around today," Bronwyn muttered. "I suppose some days ghosts get TREATED like ghosts, perhaps?"

"Nonsense," Daniel Gregg said easily, entering the room from the kitchen. "Forgive me, Bronwyn, for not answering the door, I was helping Carolyn. We have a tendency, I am afraid, to forget manners occasionally, and just barrel on through. Now then, would you care for a drink? Do sit down, here, on the sofa, or this rocking chair, if you prefer. You remember everyone right? Blackwood, Sean and Molly, naturally, Sig? Tristan? Siegfried?"

"A pleasure," Blackwood O'Ryan said, also getting up. "Carolyn has been telling me a few of your stories from the other night. I do hope you plan on telling a few more…"

"I will, but I am more interested in getting to know all of you," Bronwyn started. Turning to Daniel, she added. "And thank you, for the offer of a drink. White wine, if you have it, if not just water is fine."

"We have that," Daniel saluted. "Sean? Molly? Madeira?" At their nod, he popped out.

Bronwyn seated herself on the rocker, facing Blackwood, and Tris who had reseated themselves. Siegfried had, by this time, moved toward the fireplace, still standing, and her dark eyes followed him, reluctantly. "But I am interrupting your story, surely…"

"Nay," Molly answered. "This is just the beginning of Tris's adventures with the Callahans. We can catch up."

"Sean Callahan?" Bronwyn queried, looking interested. "There are four generations of that bunch now, aren't there? I met Callahan the second once. Didn't like him. He had something of an over-inflated opinion of himself."

"Like others, perhaps?" Sig whispered.

"Many others, it would seem," Bronwyn sighed. "But I am interrupting," she added, turning back to Tristan. "I'm sorry. Do go on."

Disconcerted, the younger ghost glanced at his brother uncertainly before continuing, "Not much more to tell, really... the entire lot of the boys shrieked and went tearing out of the castle. One did knock over an actual suit of armor. Of course, they thought the Great Ghost Callahan had done it. Now, on the subject of armor, did you know that armor has incredible acoustics? One's voice takes on an especially eerie quality filtered through a suit of it. Even more so when done at one or two a.m."

Bronwyn gave the younger Matthews a genuine smile. "I can imagine... eerie, indeed, giving a new meaning to the term, haunted castle, I suppose! I can't say that I have ever haunted, or spoken through a suit of armor, but, being involved with the theater, I am familiar with the problem of acoustics. It happened quite often when I was performing, even when alive."

"Youshouldn'tencouragehisadolescentbehavior," Sig snapped.

"Everyone needs a little fun in their lives, MISTER Matthews," she fired back. "Otherwise, what's the point? That's why after a BITTER disappointment, I stayed with the stage. If the current Callahan is anything like Callahan the second, I say he got what he deserved. Don't be such a spoilsport."

"Everyone getting better acquainted?" Daniel asked, coming back in with drinks.

"I think so," Blackie said uneasily. "Tell me, Captain, how does the current Callahan compare to the one you knew? The one in the cellar?"

"Now, Blackwood, we moved him," Tristan chided. "Skeletons were not part of the then Mrs. Muir's lease."

"Moved him yourself?" Bronwyn's eyebrows went up again. "I thought that your boss, Lynne..." she started, looking at Siegfried, "...took care of moving the body from the cellar. At least that was the story I was told Friday night." Puzzled, she looked at both brothers. "You two handled moving Callahan?"

"Lynne Avery is not my boss... Imerelyhaunther," Sig replied. "Asfortheskeleton, that was longbeforemyarrival..."

"But I was there," said Tris. "I didn't move the skeleton either, the local authorities did, but I did get to frighten away the tourists that came gawking after Callahan was discovered."

"And a good job you did, too," the Captain smiled. "As for Sean Callahan..."

"Callahan, what?" Carolyn asked, entering the room. "Hello, Bronwyn, Sean, Molly... Dinner should be ready in about another fifteen minutes. Why are we talking about _any_ Sean Callahan?"

"My fault, Mrs. Captain," Tristan apologized. "Blackie was telling me about the sermon he's planning for next month — the one about the full armor of God from Ephesians, and that reminded me of my armor story. I took umbrage at a comment made by Sean Callahan the Fifth, the Fourth's son, so I spooked his Cub Scout troop with a few tricks using armor. Miss Tegan met one of the earlier Callahan gents. Second you say? Well, none of us met him, did we? That would have been the present ghost Callahan, Colleen's, son, I suppose?"

"I would imagine," Bronwyn shrugged a graceful shoulder. "I have no idea how many sons he had running around, though. Carolyn, you were telling me that Callahan the Fourth, Callahan the First and the Captain looked a bit alike. I couldn't say to that, and I only met the second after my demise, and then in a professional capacity, but Callahan the second did not carry the family look. Perhaps it skips a generation?"

"Or a few," Carolyn suggested. "I guess every family is different. Jenny really does not look much like her late mother did, but Candy and I are quite alike in looks, so are my son and I. Even our ghost-hunter admitted that."

"One of the few things that infernal idiot got right," Daniel snorted as he took a sip of Madeira. "I do wonder how the late Mrs. Callahan and Wilkie are getting on."

"Hard to say," Blackie shrugged "He is either driving her crazy or they are getting along splendidly. I suppose it depends." The pastor glanced at Bronwyn. "Have you heard that story yet? Pardon us, if you haven't. We'll catch you up to speed in no time."

"Right," Molly nodded. "Bron will be in town a few more days anyway, and..."

"You don't have to... go do whatever it is you do?" Siegfried Matthews said archly. "I'm surprised you can tear yourself away from the stage this long."

Bronwyn's lips thinned. Lifting her chin, she answered, "Well, I'm sure the pastor would agree — miracles do happen. After all, you somehow got away from that farm of yours and don't have some horse thing tonight."

"Itakemyresponsibilitiesveryseriously,Bronwyn," he spat back. "And unlike others, when I give my word it means something. And not only that, but..."

A small "ting" interrupted him, and the rest of the crew breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's my timer," Carolyn announced. "Why don't you all head for the dining room?"

"Do you need a second set of hands, Carolyn?" Molly asked, giving her friend a look that said "please say yes." At the other woman's nod, the group headed toward the dining room and dinner.

The meal was a tense affair, to put it mildly. For the most part, Siegfried was silent, but when he did speak, his words always seemed to have a double edge to them. Bronwyn was more verbose, yet every now and then, her words might have had a hidden barb as well.

"Let me help you with the dishes, Carolyn," Molly said, as they started to move away from the table.

"No, ME!" three other voices offered, but Carolyn shook her head, grimacing. "It's not necessary. I'm going to put them on to soak, and worry about them later, after dessert."

"We can have coffee in the parlor," Daniel added. "Tris, you have not caught me up on how the play is going, and nobody has mentioned Thom all night? Come, let us adjourn. Carolyn, never mind the table, we can do that later." Giving her a look she could read easily after fourteen years together, the group headed back to the living room.

"The last time I saw my cousin, he was going nuts. It goes to show you, people in the medical professions should never, ever become patients, because they have none. I've been instructed to preach a very long sermon tomorrow, so he can get out of the house for more time," Blackie shook his head. "Of course, if I do that, there'll be two dozen people yelling because I made them late for the big game or they got terribly hungry and the line to be served at Norrie's, or whatever, was out the blasted door."

"Then you must have something of a rapt audience, preaching to ghosts," Bronwyn smiled. "At least you don't have to worry about us getting truly hungry! As for football, I never quite understood the game, I'm afraid. Seemed like it takes a great deal of time and accomplishes very little."

"Amen!" Carolyn and Molly cheered.

"Not a football fan?" Sig jibed. "It's the great American past-time. I thought you, enjoying yourself, traveling around as much as you have, would have discovered it by now. I find it quite interesting, myself."

"You do?" Tris queried. "Sig, I thought you said nothing could replace soccer in your mind?"

"It can't," he replied gruffly. "But football is reallyonlyavariationofsoccer, andIdon'tunderstand whysomepeople..."

"Sig," Molly said gently. "Slow down, it's been a long day and I don't feel like listening fast."

"Besides, you need the practice," Sean grinned. "You talk too fast on stage and the show will lose a half an hour in the telling."

"I can slow down when I see fit," Sig answered shortly.

"Then, please do," Daniel said firmly.

"As you wish," Sig nodded stiffly.

XXX

If the little group expected the tension to abate after dinner, they were sorely disappointed. The pattern continued, even worsening.

"You know, I realize that it's not strictly theater, even as much as the community play is, but the children's department is planning on doing a little play for Christmas. Standard stuff," Blackie attempted. "I don't suppose you could advise us a little on it, Bronwyn?"

Before the lady could respond, Siegfried had jumped in. "I hardly think Bronwyn would be interested in dealing with children, much less staying around that long."

A look of pain crossed the dark-haired woman's face and her eyes glistened for a moment. Then, in a deathly quiet voice, she answered the English ghost.

"For your information, Siegfried Matthews, I happen to love children. It is one of the few regrets I have of my life, never having had any... no one to love, like that..." She swallowed, and continued. "I like children's theater, I adore directing little ones, and I LOVE watching them act, even when they produce anything but professional results. I love it because they give of themselves, wholeheartedly, and honestly, which is more than I can say for adults. And I'll have you know I haven't made ANY decisions about when I am leaving here... perhaps when Molly and Sean tell me to leave, or more than ONE person indicates that I am not welcome, and not before. And please, SIR, try not to make any more assumptions for me. I can speak quite well for myself, thank you!"

A cold silence blanketed the room. Finally, Sean broke it by saying, "Molly and I'd never tell a charmin' guest such as yourself to leave."

"And I'd be most grateful for the help at church," Blackie added.

"If I can help in any way, all someone need do is ask," Bronwyn said, not moving her eyes from Sig.

"PerhapsIspokeoutofturn," Siegfried said, looking almost shamefaced.

"Perhaps so," Bronwyn answered. "Blackwood..."

"Blackie, to my friends."

"Blackie, I would be more than happy to discuss the children's play with you, any time you wish."

"Are you attending services tomorrow?"

"Naturally."

"We can talk more then, after I see the stage, but tell me, what are you planning? Or has that been decided?"

"We don't really have a formal stage," Blackie smiled apologetically. "Just a wide area between the altar and the first pew. As to the content, I really don't know. It kinda depends on what we have to work with."

"Then, I shall look it over tomorrow."

"Great. You know, speaking of tomorrow, I really need to look over my sermon one more time, or two. Carolyn, it was lovely, but I need to get a move on. Sometimes, I envy you guys, just popping around. But, I'll just make do with the car."

"Car? Please, let me drive you home!" Tristan said, with forced brightness. "Please?"

"I still drive a stick shift!" Blackie reminded him.

"Yes, but I've been wanting to learn how to drive one, so you can show me."

"Fine, just watch. Don't touch the wheel," Blackie agreed, recognizing that for once, Tris really wasn't asking to drive, just get out of there.

After the two young men exited, Carolyn offered Molly and Sean a way out. "Blast it. I finished making that new dress for Amberly this afternoon, but I never got a chance to get it to Jenny. Could you stop Tristan, darling? So he can take it?"

"I can pop it over in the morning, if you think she needs to wear it tomorrow," Daniel said.

"Nonsense," Molly said. "What's a godmother for if not to do little things like that? Sean and I'll be happy to drop it by."

"I'll meet you two at your home," Bronwyn murmured. "Thank you, Captain, Carolyn." On that, she faded out.

Gratefully, Carolyn went and got the yellow dotted-Swiss dress. As she returned to the parlor, Sig rose. "It's been an interesting evening, Captain, Mrs. Gregg, but I really should see how the new foal is doing. Thank you for the company." Then he, too, popped out.

And so, a very long evening was at an end. Carolyn Gregg dropped onto the sofa. Looking up at her husband, she shook her head. "Well, that was..."

"Yes, it was," the Captain agreed. "Though quite what, I am not sure, dear lady."

"In a way, they remind me of us," Carolyn mused.

Daniel Gregg lifted his brows. "Of us, my love?"

"We did hurt each other during those first two years. The monkey-puzzle tree, me asking if you had human feelings, a few sabotage incidents I could mention, but won't."

"I admire your tact, Madam," the ghost smiled. "Tell me, you aren't contemplating matchmaking, are you?" His gaze did not waver, but he did not forbid her to do so either.

Carolyn thought, then shook her head. "No. It just doesn't feel like my place to interfere this time. Unless..."

Faster than she could breathe, Mrs. Gregg found herself being kissed thoroughly. When it ended, the Captain asked, "Now, what were you saying?"

"Do you really think you can distract me with one good kiss?"

Daniel looked at her, a tiny grin playing on the edge of his lips. "No. That's why I had an entire series planned."

"All right," Carolyn nodded agreeably. "That might do it."

**Sunday**

"Would you all quit staring? Haven't you ever seen a guy with a cane before?" Thom Avery grouched as he hobbled up to the church door, flanked by Candy Muir Avery and the Pierces. Most of the family stood waiting and watching, except for Blackie, who had to be up front as the pastor.

"We're just glad to see you recovering," the Captain said gruffly.

"Bet it's good to be out of the house again," Ed Peavey noted. "Even one fancy's that one."

"He had to get some sunlight, or people really would start thinking he was a vampire," Adam commented.

"He'd fit right in," Lynne returned.

"Ix-nay on the Halloween stuff talk," Claymore hissed.

"What? Jess is the family witch with her vitamin and herb stuff, so a vampire would fit," the doctor replied. "Calm down, Claymore."

"You shouldn't scare me," he sighed.

"He's right, Doctor," Daniel said. "That's my job."

"Ahem," Tristan cleared his throat as he and Sig approached. "Our job, sir. You can't be on duty all the time."

Claymore just glared as Thom smiled. "Hi, Tris."

Tristan returned the greeting easily and then blinked as he realized the other man was really glad to see him. Given they were both in love with the same woman, that had not happened often.

Sean, Molly, and Bronwyn came up to the group. After introducing Thom to their guest, the singers went in to join the choir. Siegfried barely greeted his friends, and did not speak to the other woman at all.

As always, the O'Casey's duet was beautiful, and Blackie's sermon on Genesis 42-43, about the reunion of Joseph and his brothers, was thorough, yet concise.

Helen and Jim Wight had the coffee hour afterwards. Thom insisted on attending, over Candy, Jess, and Lynne's objections.

"Now, remember, Dash, you are sharing the doctor with Sig and me, right?" Tristan whispered as the Gregg group headed toward the fellowship hall where the Wights were hosting the coffee hour.

Lynne turned to give the trio a look. "Excuse me? One, I'm not an umbrella you can pass around and share. Two, what gives you the idea that HE can speak for me?"

Behind them, Daniel and Carolyn halted to hear the reply.

Tristan flushed as he back-pedaled. "Er, well, you being next to our noble friend there gives him sort of an… umbrella of protection from… people. Certain ones, I mean. And you're such a… formidable lady that surely you can defend more than one guy from… people."

"People?" Carolyn whispered, amused. "I thought Elroy was the only — friend — with that phobia."

"And Charlie would be able to speak for me — why?"

"Yes, Tris, why?" Mrs. Gregg asked.

"Don't mind me. It's been a long week," he shook his head.

"Ask Bronwyn," Carolyn suggested.

"Don'tbeacoward,boy," Siegfried growled.

"I'll remind you of that when you're looking for a place to hide," his brother muttered. "I think I'll see if Thom needs some help getting through the crowd. There are a lot of people here today."

"Do I hear my name being taken in vain?" Bronwyn asked coolly as she and the O'Caseys joined the group.

"No," Dash said. "Carolyn was simply suggesting that you might help protect the unattached males from… unwanted attaching. I think it's down to one. Tris just rushed off. Sig?"

"Gladly, if I'm asked, of course," she said.

"I'm fine."

"Suit yourself. You always do."

"Are you all going to hang out in the hall?" Helen called from the door.

"Sorry," Lynne said. "Come on, Charlie. I'm sure there's chocolate somewhere inside."

XXX

"Good morning, Mrs. Miles," said Darlene Hassenhammer, coming up to the table. She gave a curious look at the new face. "How are you this fine morning, and who is your friend?"

Carolyn smiled, biting back the giggle that threatened to escape as she heard in her mind the dozens of permutations of the poor woman's name that Tris, Adam, and the others had invented. "Darlene, this is Bronwyn Tegan. She's..."

"Here visiting my friend, Molly. We... both belong to the same… professional association."

"Oh? You sing as well?"

Bronwyn shook her head. "Ah, no. It's more general than specifically one entertainment discipline. Acting is my vocation."

"Oh, REALLY?" the woman gushed. "Well, isn't that lovely? **I** act too! We're producing_ And Then There Were None... _the production will go on Halloween weekend... Tell me, will you still be in town to see it? I would love to get another _professional's_ opinion. Mister Gregg is directing, but frankly..."

"Darlene?" Another voice interrupted.

"Yes? Oh, Margaret..."

"Yes. Darlene. Who are your friends?"

"This is Miss Tegan. It is Miss, isn't it? From… wherever Mrs. O'Casey is from. She's an actress, a real pro," Darlene gushed.

"That's not quite right," Bronwyn corrected. "Molly, I believe, was born in Ireland. I'm afraid that is not I. I was born in England. As for being a pro, well, being an actress, as well as other facets of the theater, that is what I do. I'm between engagements at the moment. On holiday, as it were."

"I see..." said Margaret. "But it's MISS Tegan?"

"Technically, I suppose it is Mrs., as I was married once, briefly," Bronwyn smiled. "I have been widowed for more than a... that is, many years now. But what is in a title? Or a name, really? To quote Shakespeare, or nearly, a rose by any name smells as sweet."

Siegfried Matthew's head turned sharply toward the little group, and he nearly dropped the plate of cookies he was holding. None of the women heard him hiss in a whisper, _"Married? When? Who?"_

"So Tegan is your married name, then?" Margaret, the land-shark queried.

"No," Bronwyn shook her head. "I didn't keep my married name."

"I didn't either," said Margaret Coburn, nee Sharpe.

"I understand that is becoming more the norm." Bronwyn laughed lightly and turned the subject. "So... Darlene, is it? You are appearing in a play?"

Before Darlene could begin chattering about her role, Margaret interjected, "I was in Claymore's first play, you know. One of the _**lead**_ parts."

"Were you, now?" Bronwyn smiled. "Was that the one where you were the 'other woman' while Carolyn and Mr. Coolidge played the leads? How wonderful for you. 'Other women' parts are so interesting to do, yet not as much sought after. I'm sure you performed admirably, and brought down the house."

"Nope, Just broke a chair," Martha, who was sitting at the far end of the table, murmured, with a snicker.

Bronwyn's lips quivered. "I do hope," she said, when the laugh was quashed, "no one was in it, at the time."

"No, I was fine," Margaret snapped, her face flushing. "I had just stood up. I still think someone..." She glanced at Carolyn and Martha, "...Might have sabotaged it. You need to be careful of such things in your production, Darlene. Tell me..." She turned back to Bronwyn. "...You'll only be in town for a few days, then?"

"I hope you can stay a bit longer than that!" Darlene gushed. "Professional advice like yours is hard to come by!"

"But we wouldn't want to KEEP you, either!" Margaret added.

"I haven't decided, yet," Bronwyn answered. "I may decide to stay for a while, if I can keep occupied."

"We'd love to have you stay, Bronwyn," Carolyn assured her. "I'm sure that we can manage to keep you busy."

"I know I will be here for a couple of days, at least, Carolyn," she answered. "Blackie wants me to look and see if I have any ideas for your Christmas pageant. He doesn't believe in waiting until the last minute, does he? And Molly and I are still visiting."

"Are you staying at the hotel?" Darlene asked, "maybe we can have lunch, or something. I'd love to get your slant on Emily Brent — the character I am portraying in our play. I fear Claymore has the wrong idea about her. The poor woman does get murdered after all, and…"

"It IS a murder mystery, Darlene," Margaret cut in.

"Ah, _And Then There Were None_ — a classic," Bronwyn interrupted smoothly, avoiding the comment question about where she was staying. "...and you have such a good part! A wonderful character! It's not everyone who can play a poisonous woman like Brent well... I'm sure you are doing it splendidly."

Martha choked on her coffee.

"Martha, do take care of that cough," Carolyn advised sweetly. "It wouldn't do for you to get ill."

"Why, THANK you, Miss Tegan!" Darlene beamed. "Yes, Martha, do take care of yourself, The flu has been going around, and this long-term cold-bronchial thing. We can't have you getting sick. Not on top of the show."

"Bronwyn, I'd like you to meet Jim and Helen," Carolyn said, as the vet and his wife came up to the table.

"Delighted to meet you," Helen answered, smiling.

"Same here," James added. "Molly tells me that you might be staying for a bit. You don't have any pets that need to have their shots updated, or anything, do you?"

Bronwyn shook her head. "Sorry, no, although I do love animals, all animals… cats, dogs, horses… I have often wished I had one that could travel with me, but it's not… feasible. Wouldn't be fair to them." She smiled. "Although TJ seems to have taken a fancy to me."

From the next table over, Siegfried's eyebrows had shot up again at Bronwyn's comment about loving animals.

"TJ?" Helen looked puzzled.

"One of Carolyn's cats."

"You mean Dakota's," Daniel smiled, coming up and joining the bunch. "TJ is the picky one. Shy around people."

"Some of us are VERY shy..." Margaret murmured, glancing Siegfried's way, a predatory look in her eye. "Well, Miss Tegan, nice to have met you... I think I need to ask Mr. Matthews something about, well, something. Perhaps I will see you again?" Without waiting, she started moving away from the group, stopped and turned around, puzzled. "Now where did he go? He was here a moment ago... Oh! There he is!" and she was off for the far end of the room, where Sig was speaking with Blackie.

Across the room, Jess moved away from her husband to latch onto Tristan and whisper, "Okay, what's wrong with your brother?"

The ghost looked around to locate Sig. "At the moment, I'd guess he's under shark attack." He took a sip of cola. "Better him than me."

Jess shook her head. "That is not what I mean. He's been very not himself for a couple of days, and I want to know why."

"For once, not me." Tristan glanced over toward Bronwyn. "If you want my best guess..."

Mrs. Pierce grimaced. "She's nice. I don't get it. You really don't remember..."

"Not even a glimmer. Sorry, Jessamyn."

Shuddering, she said, "Look, don't use that word and I'll never call you his little or baby brother."

"Deal."

"And, if you can do something about Sig..."

"Later. Right now, I'm very content hiding over here," Tristan nodded.

"Be careful. Darlene's bad seed is around here, somewhere."

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine today?"

XXX

After a few minutes, Bronwyn strolled over to see Blackie. She knew he wanted to go over to see Thom and Candy that afternoon, so they did need to go look over the 'stage' area.

Margaret was still there, batting her lashes at the two men, both of whom looked like they wanted to be rescued in the worst possible way. As she came into Sig's line of sight, he looked up abruptly. The look on his face was so grim that Bronwyn drew up short. Ignoring Margaret's putout look, he moved in closer to his "old friend."

_"Who did you marry? When?" _Siegfried whispered loudly.

Bronwyn drew back. "Is it any of your business?" When he choked, she turned to look at Blackie. "Reverend, I believe you wanted me to look over the church. Shall we?"

Blackie glanced from Siegfried to Bronwyn and back again. "Er… yeah. I'll just grab Miss Drew, she's the head of the children's department, and we'll head on over."

Blackie's eyes searched the room. Landing on the teacher, he took Bronwyn's hand and guided her over to the other woman, leaving Siegfried trapped by the land-shark. Sig gave him a baleful look, but Blackie ignored him.

"Miss Drew?"

A smartly dressed, attractive, forty-odd-year-old woman turned her head, facing the pastor and the spirit.

"Reverend, I've told you, it's Amanda. But I suppose you will call me that when you are ready! What can I do for you?"

"I'd like you to meet Bronwyn Tegan," Blackie began. "She's in town for a bit, visiting the O'Caseys. She's in the theater business. I asked her, if you don't mind, to take a look at the church and see if she has any ideas about how we might stage the children's Christmas production in December."

"I wish my students planned ahead as much as you do!" Miss Drew grinned. "Bronwyn, it's lovely to meet you, and I must say, I am delighted to get the advice. Keeping children in line as a teacher is entirely different from herding them around on a small stage!"

"And adults are just taller children, I've found," Bronwyn returned, her lips forming a tiny grin. Very deliberately, she changed her focus, putting the disturbing scene with Mr. Matthews at the back of her mind.

The other woman smiled broadly. "That puts me in mind of something I read once. I can't remember who said it. A director was being berated for saying actors were cattle, to which the director replied..."

Bronwyn finished the line for her. "Alfred Hitchcock. 'I didn't say all actors were cattle... I said they should be TREATED like cattle'!" She laughed heartily. "I decided maybe he had a point after I started directing shows as well as acting in them."

"My! You direct, too?" Miss Drew asked, fascinated, "I'm so glad to meet you! I have a feeling you can be a big help to the Sunday school!" She nodded to Blackie. "I think the church is still open, shall we go? I have an appointment in about an hour and I am sure Bronwyn has plans, too."

Blackie nodded. "Sure. Right this way."

"I'll follow in a moment," Miss Drew said. "Soon as I say a good-bye to Mrs. Wight, I'll be along."

"Yeah. We need to do that, too," Blackie nodded.

Once the farewells were said, the trio went down the hall to the sanctuary. Dismayed, Blackie listened as the sound of a vacuum cleaner came from outside, and the smell of lemon oil hit their nostrils.

"Blast. I thought I'd given the volunteers time to get done with the cleaning and so on," Blackie muttered as he and Bronwyn opened the door. "Captain Gregg's crew has spoiled me, I guess. When they fixed up Aunt Jess' house, they got things done in a miraculously short amount of time."

"Hey, Rev!" Michael Post called from where he was studiously rubbing lemon oil into one of the pews. "What are you doing back this way? I thought you'd be downstairs… fellowshipping."

"Yeah, Blackie," Abner Dawes concurred, turning off the vacuum cleaner. "I figured we'd be clear to get the last of the cleaning done now. I want to catch the football game at two-o'clock."

"Me, too," Michael grinned. "Who's your friend?"

Blackie smiled to himself, as he thought, maybe we need to start putting out visitor name tags? Then, he introduced Bronwyn to the Schooner Bayites, concluding with, "Would we be in you guys' way if we took a look around? Planning Christmas stuff needs to start way beforehand, if we're gonna get it done, and Miss Tegan is somewhat of a pro. I thought I'd take advantage of her expertise while she's here."

Abner shrugged. "We're 'bout done, and we are done with the front. So whatever it is you need to do, go on. 'Sides, you're the boss."

"Tell the Elders that," Blackie sighed with a grin. "Nah. HE is, not me. I just manage. Sorta. Ladies..."

"Nice to meet you both," Bronwyn nodded. Her greeting was returned, then the three planners moved to the front of the room where the ghost contemplated the area thoughtfully. "Actually, you have a wonderful area to work with here," she began. "And…" she added, pointing toward the doors on either side of the church. "…Natural entrances and exits, and the center aisle allows for traffic flow. This area could handle at least twenty children, easily, if you are thinking about a group of children, singing, or what-have-you. Again, that is not my specialty…"

"Join the club," Blackwood smiled. "I can't carry a tune in a bucket. Most frustrating, when I hear Sean and Molly sing. They make it sound simple, even when I know it's not. Add to that, Daniel Gr… Miles can carry a tune, not to mention Tristan Matthews. I feel woefully inadequate, sometimes."

"Yes," Bronwyn frowned. "I used to get frustrated, hearing Siegfried sing as well."

"Siegfried Matthews can sing?" Amanda Drew queried. "That's right, he did play Pickering in _My Fair Lady_, but I think of that part more as talk-singing, like Higgins, not singing-singing, if you know what I mean." She smiled. "I hadn't realized you had visited Schooner Bay before, Bronwyn."

"I haven't," the spirit confessed, a blush coming to her cheeks. "I knew Mister Matthews a very long time ago… almost another lifetime, in fact. That's how I knew he could carry a tune." The actress paused for a moment, then added. "But I am detaining you…" She looked back to the stage area. "What seems to be the problem with staging your pageant?"

"Short people… kids," Amanda Drew grinned. "We get a fairly full house, as it were, on Christmas, and the adults that arrive late, or get drafted into helping, get seated near the back, and half the time they can't see their little ones perform. Hear them, yes, as we have worked out a fairly good sound system, see them, no."

"Then add to that sets, trees, costumes… the stage area gets really busy," Blackie went on. "Can you think of anything we can do, Bronwyn?"

"Lose the sets, and build risers," Bronwyn's answer was immediate. "But not flat risers. More like… what am I trying to say here…? A ramp. Taller in the back than the front. Make it about six inches off the ground, here…" She pointed to the area immediately in front of the first pew. "…Then slant it up so, that here…" she added, pointing to the area closest to the alter, "…It measures more like a foot. Build the risers in sections, so they are easy to store, and here…" she added, pointing to the side area. "Maybe build a few dozen wood blocks… about eighteen inches square. At least two dozen… depending on how they are arranged, loose, or in a stair-step formation on each side of the main stage, you have more risers, and multi-levels for the smaller children. There's enough room, and again they are easily made, easily stored, easy to paint. They act as scenery, too, or at least a suggestion of scenery. I've seen and done several plays with nothing but strategically placed wood blocks, instead of detailed scenery and sets."

"Now why didn't WE think of that?" Amanda Drew cried. "Of course! I've seen that effect for several presentations, and a play at the University of Maine!" She almost gave Bronwyn a hug. "Tell me, Bronwyn, do you have any ideas for something new and different we might try this year? Not terribly complicated, but something to go along with the usual Christmas fare?"

"I was going to ask the same thing," Blackie said. "Some of the older kids — that is the ones still in Sunday school, but approaching, say age eight and up, maintain they don't mind traditional, but want to do something new. They get 'bored'."

"Wel-l-l…" Bronwyn drew the word out. "The only thing I can think of offhand is, and I THINK it could be adapted for older children…"

"Yes?" Miss Drew prodded.

"Have you ever heard of Henry Van Dyke's tale, _The Story of the Other Wise Man?"_

"Of course!" Blackwood nodded, enthusiastically. "The story traces the lifelong search of a wealthy court physician and astronomer in ancient Persia named Artaban, who dedicates his life to finding the Messiah."

"I remember that story, too!" Amanda Drew added. "When I was little, my parents had a… I don't know what you call it… one of those open a flap every day story-board things that told the tale. Simplified, naturally. Artiban is blessed with brains, wealth and prestige, but he feels empty and confused, and turns to the ancient scriptures for some sign of life's true meaning. He discovers the prophecies concerning the imminent birth of the King of Kings. Then he sells his possessions to buy three precious gems to present to Jesus. He and his slave set out on a journey that takes them across the desert where they are to rendezvous with three other Magi."

"Right," Blackie interjected. "He spends the rest of the story following the Magi, always finding out they have left the city, just as he arrives in a new place. Over time, he is forced to sell the three jewels to help those less fortunate, and then he finally catches up with the Messiah, just AFTER he has been crucified."

"That's right," Bronwyn smiled. "Artaban is deeply depressed, feeling his life has been wasted. But on Easter morning, the now risen Jesus appears to Artaban and tells him that he has in fact, given him a gift far more precious than gems. He has helped his brothers in times of need, and Artaban now understands the true meaning of life." She paused. "Do you think your children… that is the children you have to work with would be interested in doing a play like that?"

"I think they'd be thrilled," Amanda Drew said bluntly. "Bronwyn, could you adapt the short story? Do you think it could be adapted? Not as a play adults would put on, but one for children?"

"I think it could be done," Bronwyn started. "I know the story well, but I've never put it on as a play, or seen it put on, but that doesn't mean it couldn't be. I could try, I suppose. At least you wouldn't have to worry about the rights, or anything, I don't think. The only issue might be, do you think it would be more of an Easter play than a Christmas one?" A frown crossed her face as she considered this.

Blackie shook his head. "Easter gives Christmas its meaning. Without what happens that Sunday morning, Christmas has no reason to be special. I could work with you, if it would help, Bronwyn," he continued. "I think it is a fantastic idea. And you know, we have at least four good writers in my family; Carolyn, the Ca… Daniel, Jenny, and Sean."

"I don't know how long I am going to be in town, yet," the woman answered. "But I suppose if Carolyn could loan me a typewriter… I do know how to type… I could give it a try, or at least get it started for you."

"Terrific. I can't wait to tell everyone," the pastor grinned. "I'm SO glad you came today!"

"I am, also," Miss Drew smiled. "But, Bronwyn, we're keeping you. Is there any chance we could talk about this tomorrow? "I have a free two hours, starting around eleven a.m. tomorrow. No classes. Please say you'll meet me to discuss this! Norries? Lunch? On me?"

"And me?" Blackie added. "Don't leave us hanging here, please!"

"Somehow, I don't think it would be good to refuse a man of the cloth," she said, giving them both a nod. "I'll see if I can find a copy of the short story tomorrow at the library and refresh my memory a bit. Shall I meet you at Norrie's, then?"

"Meet me here, we can walk over together," said Blackie.

"It's a date, then?" Miss Drew smiled. "I hate to draft and run, but I do have an appointment…"

"Fine," the other two agreed, and the teacher was out the door a moment later.

The pastor turned back to Bronwyn. "So what do you have planned for the rest of the afternoon? Activities with Sean and Molly? Carolyn and Daniel?"

"I'm not sure yet," Bronwyn smiled. "But now I think part of it might have something to do with looking up this story!"

"That's what happens in small towns," Blackie chuckled. "I like to keep my congregation busy. Idle hands and all that, you know."

"You're off to a rip-roaring start then!" Bronwyn laughed back.

**END PART ONE**


	2. Chapter 2

And Then There Was…

Mary and Amanda

Disclaimers from Chapter One still apply

**October, 1982 Gull Cottage, Maine**

Tristan Matthews would be the first to admit that his relationship with his brother had always been somewhat… problematic. When his sister had married at sixteen, he'd hied off the family farm immediately thereafter, unable to contemplate being trapped there with only Sig for company. Their reunion nearly two years before had been — stormy. However, the two ghosts had reached a truce and become not just brothers, but friends. Though they still needled each other and Sig was hard on the younger man, Tristan was worried about the other Matthews. When the crew scattered for Sunday afternoon, Tris went in search of Siegfried, thinking to offer counsel or at least fraternal support. He was sure that Sig would be at the local riding stable. It was his favorite place in the world, after all. No one had seen him all day. He wasn't back at the doctor's house or visiting Adam and Jess. He tried focusing on his brother, but just got — the best word would be static, as if Siegfried was deliberately blocking anyone from finding him. Fine. He'd give up, for that day.

Early Monday, before Linden's clients began coming in, making his presence as office manager necessary, Siegfried was found at the stables.

"And just where were you yesterday afternoon? I came to help you with the horses. I couldn't find you anywhere," Tristan's tone of voice was somewhere between being annoyed and worried. Silence met his frustrated query. "Siegfried..."

Still, the older ghost was mute as he fiddled with the tack.

"Sig!"

"I'm not deaf, you know." Siegfried turned an irate glare onto his brother.

"Dash says it better," Tristan snapped. "I was worried. Don't bother giving me that look. I'm immune to glares, stares, and — nothing else rhymes. Sig, c'mon. What is up with you? Please."

Siegfried sighed. "Very well. You'll pester it out of me. Once upon a time, Bronwyn and I were in love, or I thought we were. In fact, I was all set to run off with her and join her father's acting troupe."

Tris nodded. "I remember you telling me you wanted to go on the stage, when you first came here. What...?"

"Remember, Tris? I told you this part. I had already packed and left and gone into town with Bronwyn, but then..."

"Dad..." Tristan breathed out. "The riding accident…"

"Indeed. My plans altered, and she... went out of my life without so much as a good-bye. She was running an errand for her father when I got the message at the theater about what had happened. I left her a note, and asked her to at least do that much, come see me to say farewell, but she never came. Never. Not only did I lose my father and my dreams, but I lost... her. Seeing her again, it… it has opened up a few old wounds."

Staggered by this revelation, it was now Tristan's turn to be silent, then, very quietly, he said, "Okay, look... here's my advice as someone very old and wise..."

"I'm STILL older than you are, Tristan," Siegfried reminded him. "Old and wise, indeed."

"But not very wise at the moment, and I have been a ghost longer."

"Well, then, speak your mind. If there is anything I have learned in the last two years is, you won't shut up as long as you think you have something to say." He sighed. "I'm too depr... tired to argue with you."

"How gracious of you. You know, if you'd try my trancing method, you would not be so tired, if tired is really the problem, that is. Sig, first let me ask you something. What is her side of the story?"

"Her side?" The older ghost was truly startled. "What HER side? I told you. I left Bronwyn a letter, I explained what happened and said please come say goodbye... I know she would have had time. The accident happened in the middle of the afternoon. There was still plenty of daylight left, and the troupe wasn't leaving until late that evening. No… She just couldn't be bothered. And she got married... I heard it from her own lips. Obviously she didn't care about me as much as I thought she did."

"Her getting married does NOT mean she does not — did not — whatever not, care about you. Trust me on that." For a second, his eyes blazed. "And a hundred things could have happened. Maybe your phrasing left something to be desired. Maybe she thinks you didn't care about her. Or, sometimes death makes people act strangely. She might not have known what to say to you about losing a parent. It could have scared her."

"My phrasing was perfectly clear," Sig growled. "And we talked. And she knows how I felt about her. Besides, if it were that, why has she been so… stand-offish since she came here?"

"To quote my Captain, she is eternally, inexorably, infernally, FEMALE. They speak a different dialect from us. Maybe she thinks you hate her, with good reason, it would appear. I don't know. Carolyn's complained about the mail service losing letters. Maybe your note got lost. If you didn't hand it to her, maybe she didn't get it until after they had gone? And coming back was impossible. We didn't have cars back then."

"Lost. Ineverthoughtaboutthatbefore." He sighed. "Still, she..."

"Sig, I… look, I'll be breaking a confidence if I say too much, but I know well that mis-communication can profoundly mess up one's life or afterlife. When I left that time… Look, I'm not saying go marry her. But, glaring and all at each other just puts all of us in the middle. The others really like her, but they love you as well. Moreover, you've lost a lot of years. Those can't be regained, and you can't change what happened, but like Blackie said in the sermon, Sunday, you can change what the past means to you. If Thom can get to the point of not glaring at me, you should be able to get there with Bronwyn."

"I have been making everyone feel awkward, haven't I?"

"Yes, and Bronwyn too, no doubt. Maybe she has some perfectly reasonable explanation and even if she doesn't… I know you two should talk. Nothing is getting accomplished like this."

"But, after the last few days... how would I start?"

"I think Molly is going to bring her to the rehearsal tomorrow. Kinda sneak her in and see if she has any opinions. I understand she helped Blackie and Miss Drew out immensely after church yesterday. And since he's tagged me to help work with the children closer to time…"

"Little wonder. You are so close in mentality. Sorry, reflex."

"Be that as it may, if I am working with the lady, it would be easier if loyalty to you does not obligate me to despise her."

"Youareundernoobligationto…"

"You know darn well that if you and she keep this… glaring up, nobody will feel comfortable. Look… you and I got our differences ironed out, at least, most of them, and that was after I avoided you for a hundred years and some. You really want to be put in that position again? Knowing she is… around, and not being able to at least be friendly? Or, if friendly is too much of an imposition, try for polite. Not polite as in "I'm not biting your head off," but… decent. Not radiating animosity."

"I'm really radiating that much?"

"Are you kidding? If Molly looks lavender-blue when she is unhappy, right now, when you are around Bronwyn, you look downright ochre."

"I will… consider it."

"Consider it STRONGLY, Sig. If you don't, it will just continue to eat you up and make you and everyone else miserable. Now..." Tris slapped his brother on the back. "...About the horses. What can I help you with?"

"That black horse is un-rideable. See if you can gentle it."

"I'll whisper in her ear. See what I can do. That one's a beauty."

"Whisper in its ear? It's not a girl, it's a horse — ride it."

"Ah — but like I was telling you, a calm voice, a soft tone can work wonders on man, beast, or a woman. Think about it, Sig." He saluted. "I think I'll go talk to that horse now."

"Please do."

Siegfried needed to think, and it was impossible to do with one's kid brother, particularly THAT kid brother, being so blasted… no, he was not right. That was impossible. But his wrong-ness was bloody uncomfortable.

XXX

After her meeting with Blackwood and Miss Drew, Bronwyn popped out to Gull Cottage. First, she mentioned _The Other Wise Man_ project, asking if she could either borrow the typewriter and do her best to adapt it, or would Carolyn or Daniel consider helping write the play? Of course, they were happy to.

Then, gathering her nerve, the newcomer said, "I'm sorry that my being here is causing your family tension. I never imagined it would. I like you all, but…"

Carolyn looked at the newcomer with alarm. "But what? What tension? There's..."

"There has been," Bronwyn insisted. "You can't deny it."

Daniel listened, but did not comment, merely scratched the rim of his ear and maintained an interested expression. It seemed the safe thing to do.

Finally, Carolyn nodded. "I don't want to pry, but yes, it is apparent you and Siegfried have something of a past, and he's… upset about it. I can sympathize to some extent; old flames have turned up around here before... but... but... we are out of high school. I think we can be friends with both you and Sig. Though I wish there was some way you two could make a truce."

"That's hard to do when he won't speak two civil words to me," Bronwyn sniffed.

"You should have seen the row he and Tristan had when they reunited. This is going much better," Daniel commented at last. "Or at least a bit more quietly."

Bronwyn's eyebrows went up again.

"Siegfried and Tristan... they have just recently reunited? I wasn't aware they were separated for any length of time. Somehow I got the impression... I... I don't know exactly what I thought. I know he arrived later than Tris, you told me that the other night, but... They argue a good deal?"

Daniel chuckled. "Arguing is perhaps too strong a word, but they don't see eye to eye at all times. I might add that Tristan gets most upset when Siegfried uses the phrases "baby brother" or "little brother"."

"Oh." Bronwyn had the grace to look abashed, recalling how she had initially met Tristan, in this lifetime.

"Of course," Carolyn mused, "it's very understandable that they clashed, at first. They'd had over a century to build up the… flawed impressions they each had of how they parted. Each of them feeling, well, slighted and hurt over something that turned out to be only partly what either of them thought."

Daniel smiled to himself. He recognized this tactic of his lady's.

"Yes... I can see that could happen..." Bronwyn frowned. "How did they finally come to see each other's point of view?"

Daniel shook his head. "That's not for us to say. That's their story. One that both, or at least one of them, need to tell you, if it seems right."

"Correct," Carolyn nodded, taking her husband's hand. "But, speaking of not seeing eye to eye, and misunderstandings, I think Daniel and I can both tell you of a few things that happened the first two years we lived here — that is before we were able to declare our feelings to each other." She paused and looked up at her handsome husband. "You know the stories as well as I, Daniel. May I tell Bron one or two?"

"You don't need to ask, love," Daniel smiled. "I'm afraid some of our first disagreements are now legendary. Tales of monkey-puzzle trees and chart racks..."

"And sprinklers… twice! Sabotaging newspapers, PTA meetings, and political campaigns..."

"…Shoes and ships and cabbages and kings, more or less," Daniel finished. "And at least half of the arguments we had could have been avoided, if we had only talked to each other more, instead of assuming we knew what the other of us wanted, or needed..."

"...Or was thinking," Carolyn finished. "You were prepared to hand me over to Blair Thompson and Mark Helmore, as I recall."

"And you nearly walked out of here to make way for Vanessa," he countered.

"What about the time you…"

XXX

Bronwyn was fascinated by the Greggs' stories. "Goodness! You two certainly had to overcome more than the obvious obstacles to your romance. I'm not sure that's what I want with Siegfried, but I would like to get past the grudges, if possible. Civil. I would take civilly, at this point."

"I think it is possible, Bronwyn," Carolyn said gently. "You both have a lot of pride, and rightly so, for different reasons. Anyone can see that."

"But 'pride goeth before a fall'," Daniel added. "You can't let it ruin the rest of your life, or afterlife."

"But, I'm not sure where to start, at this point," Bronwyn faltered.

"Are you still planning on attending a rehearsal of the play tomorrow night with Molly and Sean?" Carolyn asked.

"Yes. They both seemed quite anxious about it. Said it wasn't going very well, and Mister Gregg doesn't seem to know what he wants, and..."

"Unless it's something to do with finance, that "Mister Gregg" seldom does know," Daniel commented gruffly. "And Siegfried will be at the rehearsal," Daniel went on. "He is playing William Blore, you know."

"And he played Pickering before," Bronwyn remarked softly. "Quite ably, from the few comments I have heard. I understand you both have trod the boards. It's a pity you won't be in this one."

Daniel looked pleased, but Carolyn rolled her eyes. "Daniel was an excellent Henry Higgins. I... prefer to forget my stints as Claymore's 'star'."

"They were most memorable, my dear," Daniel smiled. "However, I can hardly blame you for wishing to forget. Especially your first experience. You did not have much to work with, until 'someone' turned it into a comedy."

"You modestly say," she teased fondly. "I think Claymore has a good cast," she continued, turning back to their guest. "And right now we've got a lot on our plate. Writing, family obligations, helping our daughter as needed with Thom's recovery…"

"Perhaps another time," slipped out, then Bronwyn amended, "If I come back."

"You haven't even LEFT yet," Carolyn smiled. "Anything can happen."

"And around here, it usually does," Daniel added. "Are you staying for supper?"

"I'd like that," Bronwyn smiled.

XXX

When the O'Caseys and Bronwyn arrived at the theatre, everyone else was already there. Michael Post was helping paint scenery; Darlene was doing some sort of exaggerated breathing exercise. Abner and Norrie were chatting. Siegfried was near them, glancing impatiently at his grandfather's pocket watch at intervals, clearly bothered by the wasting time. Over in a corner of the stage, Tristan was cheerfully plunking away on the piano, encouraging Fontenot, who was leaning against the spinet, to sing along. The older ghost merely lifted his brows and contented himself to observe.

Finally, Claymore began trying to get everyone's attention. In a rather feeble voice, he called out, "People, let's get started. Excuse me, please. Let's get on with things. Er, someone? Can we get going?"

Hearing this, Fontenot slapped the piano and roared, "Time to get a move on, people! Places, NOW!"

Gratefully, Claymore muttered, "He's almost as good as the Captain."

A half-hour later, things were moving steadily from bad to worse. Everyone was getting frustrated, and as Bronwyn sat in the audience with Martha, Tristan and Abner, whose characters had already been 'killed off,' Martha murmured, "Why, oh, WHY did I ever let this man talk me in to doing another play?"

"You are a glutton for punishment?" Tris answered softly, just as Abner asked if anyone had any aspirin. Up on stage, Molly/Vera, Sean/Lombard, Norrie/Judge and Fontenot/Dr. Armstrong were standing, waiting for Claymore's next instructions. Darlene Hassenhammer was seated on the couch, trying to practice knitting, as Emily Brent's character demanded, and mangling the prop piece of knitting that Martha had started for her.

"Okay, Norrie… Judge," Claymore was saying, "Now, I want you to walk upstage, right, then turn around as you say, _'Against each other. We are all in grave danger…'_ and so on. Then, Vera, you are downstage center, for when you go into hysterics, Sean, I mean, Phillip, you are stage right by the fireplace... Jane/Emily, you are on the couch."

"I already am," Darlene pointed out with a sigh. "And I'm DARLENE, not Jane!"

"Well, you'll get to die there in a few minutes, then you can leave," Norrie drawled. "I have at least another ten pages before I can do that."

"Wait a minute, Claymore," Fontenot/Dr. Armstrong spoke up. "Claymore, if you do that, that puts the Judge on the opposite end of the room. There's no way he could stick the hypodermic into Miss Brent's shoulder."

"Oh..." Claymore sneezed. "Yeah... I guess that won't work... Vera, Molly, you go stage left..."

"But..." Molly said softly. "You are pointing stage right, Claymore."

Claymore sniffled, drew out a handkerchief and blew his nose, loudly. "Left, right, you know what I mean... go where I point. Judge, you move over here by the couch, so you can get Brent with the hypodermic..."

"But, Claymore," Norrie protested, "if I do it from here, the whole audience can see me. They can't know who did it yet. And even if they do, it has to be plausible, you know."

"Aye, more like within the realm of obvious," said Sean.

Then Fontenot asked, "Claymore, where did you want me?"

'Mister Director' sighed, frustrated, then sneezed again. "You are off stage, finding Rogers, who has already been killed with the axe."

"Claymore, Armstrong doesn't find Rogers, Blore finds Rogers, remember?" Fontenot pointed to his place in the script.

Claymore mopped his forehead, where he was sweating profusely, and stood up, weaving. "No that's... no... I guess that's right... sorry…"

"Blasted right, it's right," Sig called out, coming in from his place off stage, where he was supposed to be finding Rogers' body. "And I've been 'finding him' for ten minutes now. Clay, are you all right?"

Then Tris spoke up from his place in the audience where, for once, he had been sitting quietly. "No... He most assuredly does NOT look all right!"

Sean O'Casey stepped down from the stage and gave the lanky man a closer look. "Clay, are you ill? You're not having another... heart attack, are you?"

"No, I just feel awful," Claymore coughed. "I shouldn't have tried coming tonight. I guess I better sit down..." and he did so, heavily.

"You need to get home, NOW," Fontenot growled. "Before the whole cast gets exposed to… whatever it is you have."

"I CAN'T!" Claymore wailed. "We need to get something going here, or we're never going to be ready to go by show night. We still have the rest of the second act to block! We haven't done one complete run-through yet!"

"Excuse me..." Bronwyn, who had been sitting quietly, finally said, her voice slightly raised, "If I wouldn't be intruding..."

"NO!!!" eleven voices answered.

"You wouldn't be," Sean continued, a bit more quietly.

The ghost smiled. "Actually, Mister Gregg…"

"Claymore."

"Claymore, this scene is probably the most difficult one in the whole play to get right. So many people on stage, for a straight play, that is. So much is happening; it's easy to get confused. I remember the first time I directed it, I had all kinds of trouble... but if I may offer some advice..."

"Please…" Claymore whimpered.

"Really, this won't take long," she said, coming forward toward the stage. "If you trust me, maybe I could help out and offer a suggestion or two here and there. You could go home and get some rest, then I could show you tomorrow, maybe, when you are feeling better, what ideas I have, and what we were able to accomplish, and all this… traffic control will be done in no time."

"I think that sounds great," Claymore answered, relieved. He stood again, swaying slightly back and fourth, then sneezed. "Oh, my poor ears, my poor face..." He sat down again. "I feel horrible. Can somebody please take me home?"

"I will," Tris volunteered. "Well, since I'm already dead…" He paused as the sick man gave him a horrified look. "That is, my stage part is already set, I'll be your escort. Anyway, I can drive you, and come right back." He gave Bronwyn an aside wink to say just HOW fast he could get back.

"I only live five blocks away," Clay whimpered. "Are you sure you…?"

"I'll get you there," the young ghost said firmly.

"Okay," the landlord said quietly, without further argument, and leaned on the arm Tris offered him.

"Bronwyn, start without me. I'll be back in a few minutes," Tris continued, looking very much like he wished he could pop the older man home.

"Claymore must be feeling awful if he is willing to let Tris drive," Ed drawled, and the two men headed toward the door.

"I heard that, Ed!" Tris called, but didn't stop. "I still want to learn to drive your truck…"

"Not likely!" the handyman called back.

Bronwyn watched as Claymore and Tris made their way up the aisle of the theater, and out the double doors, then clapped her hands. "All right, everyone on stage, and bring your scripts and a pencil with you! I have a few changes here."

XXX

When Bronwyn finally called a halt, at ten, apologizing for the late hour, she was answered, not by groans, but by a round of applause from the cast. Together and organized, they had managed to block most of the second act. The only thing really left to do was the redone last scene of the play when the audience was finally let in on who-dun-it, and even that was fairly clear, and had been discussed, per Claymore's notes.

"Rehearsal tomorrow night? Same time?" Abner asked, as he reached for his coat. "You are coming back tomorrow, aren't you?"

"I certainly HOPE so!" Norrie cut in. "Please say you will, Miz Tegan… we still have my big scene to go and…"

"Oh, I'm sure Mister Gregg can handle that," Bronwyn demurred, a slight flush coming to her cheeks.

"I'm not!" Darlene Hassenhammer said, coming up behind Norrie. "Bronwyn, you entirely too modest. I don't know what we all would have done without your assistance, and if Claymore doesn't have you come back to help with the rest of this play, he's a fool. Thank-you, Michael," she added, as the younger man helped her put on her coat.

"You can take over entirely, as far as I am concerned," Michael added. "Personally, I think you might end up doing that anyway. Old Claymore sure didn't look good when he left! I think you've been drafted!"

"We'll see," Bronwyn answered, but she looked pleased at all the mortals' appreciative comments. Abner, Michael, Norrie and Darlene were soon out the door, but the rest of the clan lingered for a few moments more, then Martha and Ed Peavey said their good-byes and thank-you's, promising to arrive promptly the following evening.

"Good night, my dear," Fontenot added, lifting Bronwyn's hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. "I can't tell you how good it is to have you with us."

"It is nice to be here," she answered, glancing toward Siegfried, who had been remarkably cooperative the entire evening — taking direction well and not bristling at any instructions she had given to him or the rest of the cast.

"Tomorrow, then. Goodnight, all," he added, then vanished.

"Before I forget," Tris cut in. "Here…" He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. "Claymore said I should give these to you. Keys to the theater."

"Keys?" Bronwyn asked, a blank look coming to her face.

"You, Madam Director," Tris grinned, and popped them into her hand. "I'd say that makes you in charge."

"But, really, I…"

"I need to go now," he added. "I just remembered something I need to tell Dave before he goes to sleep. He hates it when I leave big notes… and I do have to say goodnight to the munchkin… goodnight, ladies!" So saying, he popped out.

"I think I'll be leaving in a minute also," Sean said. "I'd like to go check on Claymore before Molly and I go home. Darlin', why don't you and Bron lock up and I'll meet you outside Claymore's office?"

"All right, love," Molly smiled, and gave Sean a kiss on the cheek. Then Sean O'Casey dematerialized also.

Molly turned back to where Bronwyn was still standing, and Sig was surveying them both, quietly, from a slight distance.

"Bronwyn, I can't tell ye how grateful we all are — every one of us. You were wonderful tonight. I feel ever so much better about the show now! Your plan for the ending of the play is fantastic. It's not nearly so silly as the ending of the play they rewrote from the book in 1945! But it doesn't change the feeling of the story at all. I'm sure everyone will love it."

"I'm sure, too," Sig said softly. "My dear Bronwyn, you did a remarkable job tonight. You have an amazing talent. And I should tell you, having worked with Clay before, he doesn't hand over the keys to this place to just anyone."

There was an awkward, yet not uncomfortable silence, but finally Bronwyn spoke.

"Thank you, Siegfried." She looked around. "Well, I suppose we should lock up and get home…"

"Bronwyn?" Sig asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"Could… could you please stay a few more minutes or so? I… I need… I'd like to talk to you for a moment, if I may. Molly, I…"

"I… just remembered some place I need to be," Molly said in a rush. "Will ye two be all right closing the place if I go take care of it?"

"Certainly," Siegfried nodded.

"Yes," Bronwyn agreed.

On that note, Molly vanished.

"Well, I'm not sure that much needs to be done..." Bronwyn said. "You don't need to stay..."

"Bronwyn, could we please talk?" Sig cut in.

Uncertainly, the other ghost nodded. "I've hoped we would have a chance to speak… privately."

Despite initiating the conversation, it took a few moments for Sig to begin. He paced the theater restlessly.

Feeling just a little annoyed at his silence, Bronwyn asked, "Sig, I think I'm missing something. Why are you angry with me?"

He cleared his throat. "Because I felt rather abandoned when you left without saying goodbye, after that was the one thing I asked of you."

"Asked of me? When? I thought you were going to meet me at the theater… be there when I got back from the errand Father sent me on, but I never heard from you! Do you know how foolish I felt? How much that hurt?"

Whirling to face her, Siegfried exclaimed, "What do you mean? I left you a letter explaining why I could not join you!"

"I received NO letter! Left? With whom?" Bronwyn demanded.

"That uptight fellow... Zachary... Lee... no..."

"Leland?" Bronwyn asked, very quietly.

"Yes! Zachary Leland! I handed him the letter and asked him to give it to you immediately, it was very important... he didn't, then?" Siegfried paled as over a century's worth of anger and betrayal began to fizzle.

"What a blasted coincidence," the woman bit out. "Three years later, he and I were married. He never even mentioned seeing you before we left Yorkshire."

"BLAST the man!" Siegfried thundered. "Of all the gall!"

"What was in the note?" Bronwyn asked, cutting past the storm of anger.

"I explained that... my father had pursued me, to stop my leaving," Sig replied, speaking more slowly than she had ever heard him. "But, there was an accident, he was thrown from his horse, and I barely reached him in time to make peace and to promise to take care of the farm, and of Tristan and Isolde. They were orphans... I could not leave them... not to chase a dream."

"Did you… ask me to stay with you, to help you with them?" Bronwyn's voice held a repressed sob.

"No. I could not expect you to deal with two frightened, confused, hurting children, especially those two. Issy was something of a tomboy, and Tristan… has always been Tristan. I just wanted a chance to see you once more, to say good-bye. I would not ask you to give up your dreams."

"Silly man, you were my dream," Bronwyn chided. "I would have liked to have had the choice of staying or going, and I would have stayed. Love is for the bad times… not just the good. I should have seen why you were delayed, not just believed the worst."

"I should never have trusted that shifty-eyed — er—"

"He wasn't that bad," Bronwyn sniffed. "He wasn't you. But, our five years were not terrible. They were — pleasant enough. Then, there was an accident with the sets one night. A platform gave way, and I was a widow."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to kill him for betraying me in that way!" she snapped, then paused. "Sig, is that a — tear?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, turning away. "Just — a few too many memories, stress..."

Crossing the room, to where Sig was now standing, she placed a hand on his arm. "It is okay if it is. I find it takes a strong man to shed a tear, and you certainly do have cause."

For a time, they were silent as old grief was finally vented, then Bronwyn smiled. "Better? So, would you perhaps like to kiss and make up, old friend?"

"Not that old," he snorted. "But, yes." With a tiny smile, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"That is a start," she nodded, returning the gesture.

Siegfried looked rueful. "Bronwyn, the other night, I should not have said what I did about you not wanting children... Over the last hundred years or so, I've spent considerable time wondering what went wrong, and one of the theories I imagined was that perhaps instant motherhood, since you would be the closest thing the twins had to one, was what frightened you off. Forgive me? Please."

"Of course. Perhaps it would have been daunting, then. I can't for certain know. It's past. Walk me home?"

"I believe that was our first 'date'," Siegfried mused, extending his arm.

"To new beginnings, then."

XXX

Martha came into the kitchen of Gull Cottage the next morning, ready to begin her day's work and eager to tell her friends/employers about the rehearsal. Despite the early hour, Carolyn Gregg was already on the phone. The housekeeper waited quietly for the lady of the house to finish.

"Yes, Claymore, I'll tell them. Yes, yes. Just get to feeling better. Yes. Good-bye." Hanging up, Carolyn, a little unnecessarily said, "That was Claymore."

Her husband entered, conventionally, as he had just returned from giving the animals a run on the beach. Dakota's kittens were growing up to think they were pups, except for the standoffish TJ. "What did that weasley whelk want?"

"Since Molly and Sean don't have a phone, he wanted one of us to tell them, and Bronwyn, that he is deathly ill and can't continue directing the play. Tristan is supposed to drive him to Lynne's as soon as she opens for business today."

Daniel shook his head. "I take it back. He's not a whelk; he's a crab, always backing up. I'll not trouble Sean with this, I'll go roust Claymore out of bed and he'll be fit in a snap."

"Hold the phone there, Captain," Martha said, lifting her hand. "Claymore being down for the count would be the best thing that could happen to this play. He's a miserable director."

"Nonetheless, the man is a Gregg, in name if nothing else, and he gave his word. A Gregg's word is binding and I won't have him sullying it by—"

"He'll sully it more if he keeps on, and someone will kill him, and then you'll have to deal with a spook worse than Elroy," Martha maintained. "Besides, he really is sick. A horse that sounded as bad as he did last night would be shot."

"At least let's see what Lynne says. You trust her word," Carolyn suggested.

"Without question," the Captain agreed. "But, how will the play continue without any director at all? I realize he's not much, but is not something better than nothing?"

"Let me get breakfast on the table, and I'll tell you all about it."

After Martha had told her tale, Carolyn asked, "Did Sig handle HER being in charge all right?"

"Remarkably well," Martha nodded. "I wonder what turned him around?"

"I think Tristan was going to give him a talking to, but I find it hard to believe that a few words from his younger brother would do so much," Daniel pondered, reflexively tugging his ear.

"Well, I do admit to praying that they'd make a truce," Carolyn blushed.

"That explains it then," Daniel declared, coming over to kiss her cheek.

XXX

A couple of hours later, the phone rang again, just as Tristan popped in. Martha answered it this time.

"Martha, Lynne here. Claymore begged me to call and vouch for him. He thinks his uncle will be upset because he is confined to bed for at least a week, pending my judgement, two weeks, and will therefore have to shirk his duty in an un-Gregglike fashion. I promised to calm the Captain down. I'm also asking him and all the other ghosts to see that Clay is taken care of. We have a baby in the family and Thom's immune system can't be compromised now, so I need people who can't be infected to give him a hand."

"I'll pass on the word. What does he have?" Martha asked.

"Walking pneumonia and bronchitis. I'd put him in the hospital if there weren't ghosts in the family. You and Ed did get all your shots this year, right?"

"Having a doctor in the family does help one keep up with that," Martha returned dryly.

"Okay, then. I think the fever just started overnight, from what he said about waking up feeling hot. Anyway, I've passed on the message. I have patients, and a remarkably cheery assistant today. Whatever fixed his sour mood, I'm happy."

Martha hung up and turned to give her employers the news and Carolyn gave Daniel a look.

In response, he sighed. "Very well. He is not faking or shirking. I misjudged him." He paused. "This time."

"I think I'll go make a pot of soup," Martha announced, then glanced at the Captain. "If you really feel bad about it, I'll let you take it to him when the cooking's done."

The ghost looked to the ceiling in a "what did I do to deserve this?" gesture, but nodded.

XXX

Early that afternoon, thanks to some heavy medication, Claymore was drowsing when the Captain popped into his office/living quarters. Thanks to Sig's frequent visits, it was a bit more habitable than it once was, but even a ghost can only do so much.

With a wry smile to himself, Daniel cleared his throat, hoping to wake his 'nephew' easily.

Startled, Claymore roused. Upon seeing the ghost, he started to make one of his usual unintelligible screeching squawks, but broke off into a cough. "Am I dead? Dying? And you've come to take me — there?" he got out when the fit passed.

Shaking his head, the Captain set the soup down on a clear space on a table. "No, Claymore. You are not dead, dying, or even close. I have brought you some soup from Martha."

"I must be dying. You're being nice."

"I am always… nice," Daniel snapped.

"No, no. I'm dying... I've accepted it. I just hope..." Claymore paused to cough again.

"You are not dying," Daniel growled, then added, "but what is it you hope?"

"If I come back, it's like… well… you."

The spirit's brows lifted. "Handsome and happy?" he chuckled. "Death is not a miracle drug, Claymore. And for the last time, you are not dying. I refuse to allow it. Now, I'm going to fix you a bowl of this soup, and you are going to eat it and get well, forthwith."

Feeling he had little choice, Claymore gulped, "Aye-aye, sir."

Once Daniel had the meal situated and the little man had begun eating it, the ghost proceeded to tell him that according to Martha, Bronwyn had managed things well at the rehearsal.

"I knew she would," Claymore sighed, now looking depressed, as well as ill. "Bronwyn's a pro... she can take over directing for me and do a marvelous job. She has a hundred years more experience than I do."

"Are you blaming her for that?" Daniel's eyebrows went up.

"No, I'm grateful," the landlord said, humbly, and, reaching for a handkerchief, blew his nose again and coughed. "Captain, you will give my apologies to her? I didn't want this to happen, but..."

"...But it did." The Captain finished. "But right now, you need to get well, Claymore."

"You mean you aren't mad at me? And you'll talk to Bronwyn... Miss Tegan?"

"No..." the seaman rubbed the space between his eyebrows. "I'm not… and yes, we will talk to her. Though personally, I think she knows after last night, that the idea of her taking over command from you, as it were, is entirely feasible. Now then... is there anything else you need for right now? I'll be sending someone by in a few hours to check up on you."

"Just new ears... a new face... a new nose... mine hurt something terrible," Claymore wheezed.

The ghost smiled. "I can't provide any of those things for you, Claymore, only the assurance that you aren't ready to shuffle off your mortal coil yet, as the saying goes. But I will talk to Bronwyn. I believe Carolyn mentioned that the O'Casey's and Bronwyn would be coming over this morning. They might even be at Gull Cottage now, actually."

"Then can you go talk to her?" Clay whimpered. "I want to suffer in silence for a while."

"You have improved, my dear fellow!" Daniel grinned. "Time was you would have wanted to be fed like a potentate and babied like a child."

"That comes once I am on the road to recovery," Claymore sniffled again. "Just do me a favor, please. Have someone, I don't care who, check up on me once in a while and make sure I haven't died, okay?"

"Perish the thought!" Daniel shuddered, and popped out.

The Captain reappeared in Gull Cottage, where he found Martha and his wife speculating on what had turned Sig's bad mood back to normal. Of course, they had an idea or two that tended to be rather romantic and… sweet.

_Female. Eternally female. But, I wouldn't have her any other way._

Somehow sensing that Daniel had returned, Carolyn turned, her face lighting up when she saw him. "You're back. How's the patient?"

"He is — Claymore. Convinced he's dying and simply hopes to come back as wonderful as I. Of course, that is impossible," the Captain snorted. "However, I do think he will live to whine another day. He is showing some good sense and is ready, willing, and in fact, has handed the reins of the play over to Bronwyn and would we please keep a check on him to make sure he hasn't died and tell her she is in charge now? I promised to do both."

"Praise be!" Martha exclaimed. "Captain, you have just improved my day at least fifty-percent."

"Always happy to be of service, Martha," he chuckled. "I'm glad Claymore is willing also, but Bronwyn hasn't said she will take on the mantle of leadership yet."

"Heavens!" the housekeeper gasped. "I hadn't thought of that... but she was so in her element last night! Do you think she will refuse it? I know she has been sparring with Siegfried, but last night... I don't know. Like I was saying, they did seem a bit more friendly."

"Friendly as in not glaring at each other?"

"Yes, and no veiled comments, either."

Daniel cocked one brow, but did not remark or speculate. "It should be simple enough to ask her if she will accommodate this situation. My dear, would you like me to pop over, for us both to walk to Sean's, or I can summon them?"

"Oh, lets take a walk over there," Carolyn said, putting down her coffee cup. "It will do us good. Besides, we are about to ask Bronwyn a whopper of a favor. I think we should go to her."

"Excellent point," her husband nodded. An edgier note came into his voice as he added, "What do you think she will say?"

Carolyn considered. "Well, I wouldn't do it if I were she, but I'm not really into the theater, darling. If it's something that's natural to her, then she probably will. I know I'd rather write a book than see Claymore… er… anyone… mangle a subject I care about."

"Excellent point, dear lady!" Daniel smiled. "Writing... You must have found it difficult at times to sit on your hands and let Candy and Jonathan write their own school assignments over the years."

Carolyn smiled back at him and reached for a sweater, conveniently hung over the back of her chair.

"Aye, my dear! At times, yes... going all the way back to Jonathan's Adams/Franklin incident."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Let's not get into that one." He took his wife's arm. "Lets go see what she has to say. We won't know until we ask."

"If she says no," Carolyn sighed. "I don't know what Plan **B** is."

"Nor do I," Daniel shrugged. "I don't think hiring a director from the outside is an option, but we may not have a choice."

Martha planted her hands on her hips and, in a tone that brooked no dissension said, "As our friendly doctor says, let's jump off that bridge when we come to it, not before. We'll worry about plan **B** if she says no, not before."

Suddenly the Ghost of Gull Cottage was at the housekeeper's side, and had placed a kiss on the older woman's cheek, causing her to blush like a rose.

"What was that for?" There was almost a giggle in her voice.

"For being a voice of logic when we need it most, my dear lady!" Daniel said, popping back to his wife. "Thank you!" Then to his love he added, "Lets get going, my dear, or the 'vibes' I am sending out will most assuredly draw the O'Casey's and Bronwyn here."

XXX

"Come in, come in," Sean beamed, opening the door for his friends. "I don't suppose you've heard how Claymore is doing? He looked fairly rocky last night. I'd have popped over by now, but in case he was sleeping, I didna want to wake him. Your aunt always insisted sleep was the best cure for most minor ills."

"That she did," Daniel smiled fondly.

"Actually, Claymore is partly why we're here," Carolyn added, spotting Molly and Bronwyn coming into the front room.

"How is he?" Molly echoed her husband.

Briefly, Carolyn recounted Lynne and Daniel's reports.

"Oh, dear," Bronwyn frowned. "You still need a director, but I don't think he should continue."

"I've been saying that since before this," slipped out from Sean.

"Sean!" Molly chided.

"Darlin', 'tis the truth," he maintained. "Bronwyn, I know it's asking a lot, but perhaps you'd consider taking over for him? Last night was the best rehearsal we've had."

"Please?" Molly chimed in.

"Martha said the same thing," Carolyn said.

"And, all the cast did want you to come back tonight," Sean put in with his most charming grin. "Even Fontenot, and he's not free with compliments unless they are truly deserved."

The actress shook her head. "Implying something when it is in the 'might' stage, and going through when it becomes real are two different things. Their feelings could be different at the prospect of a stranger actually taking over."

"No one had a problem with me taking the part of Eliza Doolittle right after I arrived here," Molly pointed out.

"Well, THAT'S true…" Bronwyn frowned. "I remember you telling me…"

"If they all agree, will you do it?" Carolyn asked.

"I'll speak to Tristan," Daniel added. "I know he is loyal to his brother, but he is reasonable. Now, I am not Siegfried's superior officer, however, I believe he will see the wisdom..."

Bronwyn held up one hand. With a slight smile, she corrected him. "Captain, you don't need to. Sig and I have put aside our differences."

The two couples reflexively exchanged glances.

"So, if the cast does still want me, I will stay and help out," Bronwyn concluded.

XXX

The rest of the cast was waiting for Bronwyn when she and the O'Caseys arrived at the theater Wednesday evening. She was greeted with unbridled enthusiasm, answering the question immediately as to whether her promotion to director was a permanent one. As they made their way inside, everyone expressed their regrets at Claymore's illness, but also their belief that what happened was for the best in this case, and all said they would do anything possible to make the show a success.

"Probably won't be as big a success as _Lady,"_ Abner said, "But straight plays never are, from what I have seen."

"No reason for us not to TRY and make it as good," Norrie pointed out. "Now I'm actually looking FORWARD to it!"

"Will you be ready to look at the sets before too long, Bron?" Michael Post asked. "Claymore has been putting it off, and what I have done so far doesn't look quite right. I'm getting a little nervous about what they are going to cost, too, and we still need to go to Keystone and find the plaster of Paris Indians..."

"I wanted to ask you a bit more about my portrayal of Emily Brent," Darlene fussed. "Claymore, he..."

"One at a time," Bronwyn laughed. "We need one more night to finish blocking the second act. Then we can start working on more of the details."

"Not to say I told you so, but I DID tell you so..." Tris grinned. "You ARE the boss now!"

XXX

By the time rehearsal broke up that night, the second act was blocked, barring unforeseen technical changes which would be determined as the cast started full run-throughs on Friday, the day after Lynne's birthday party.

"Full schedule after that, people," Bron continued, looking at her notes. "Rehearsal Friday, rehearsal Saturday. By then, absolutely no holding scripts! Sunday, no rehearsal, but if you want to ask me anything, I'll be at the church for services. Rehearsal Monday, then dress rehearsals Tuesday and Wednesday, with all props, including the gun, and Thursday, full dress, no stopping for anything. Friday and Saturday, the show, and…" Bronwyn stopped for a moment and peered at a bedraggled note pad she had found at the theater, filled with Claymore's almost undecipherable handwriting: _'Find out F's name for programs.'_

"Fontenot?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"Claymore's notes… I see he doesn't have your first name. You know, for the theater programs."

The ghost sighed. "That blasted man has been pestering me about this for a month now!"

"Well, it's a legitimate question…"

"My name is Fontenot, JUST Fontenot."

"I'm with Claymore on this one. We can't print only that in the programs. What is your FIRST name?"

"I just told you."

"Fine, then. Your name is _Justin_ Fontenot," she said, making another note on the pad.

The old ghost grinned, and the rest of the cast let out a shout of laughter. When the noise died down, Bron asked, "Anyone have any more questions?"

"Just one…" Ed drawled.

"And that would be?" the spirit queried.

"Why in blazes didn't you show up weeks ago?"

Everyone laughed again, and they called it quits for the night.

XXX

At six the next evening, the entire crew descended on the Avery household for Dr. Lynne's birthday party. She would have attempted to dissuade the 'planning committee,' but it clearly meant a lot to Thom to have this event for her, so she gave in with grace.

Fontenot was the last to arrive.

"We thought you'd be late," Siegfried chided.

"Sir, I am always on time," the senior spirit informed him. "If I'm late, I'm dead."

"You ARE dead!" Thom blurted out.

"That's beside the point," Fontenot insisted. Then, turning to Lynne, he bowed slightly. "Many happy returns of the day."

With a tiny grin, she thanked him. "Nice outfit, by the way," Lynne added, glancing appreciatively over the black pirate's blouse and matching pants he was wearing that looked simply stunning.

"I second that," Carolyn added.

"Third it," Candy and Jenny said in unison. The other ladies also clearly were enjoying the sight.

Dash, the Captain, Dave, Thom, and all the other men exchanged chagrined looks.

Seeing this, Mrs. Gregg took her husband's arm. "We all have working eyes, darling." She kissed his cheek. "Something you guys should be glad of; since none of you are exactly hard to look at. I wouldn't mind seeing YOU in an outfit like that."

Appeased, he nodded. "I will consider it."

Between Candy, Martha, Molly, Jenny, and Jess, there was quite a spread laid out. The music lovers in the family had contributed cassettes as background music, and there were, of course presents. These were kept hidden until Carolyn gave the signal for the ghosts to pop them into the room.

Seeing the bright boxes suddenly appear, the doctor gaped in astonishment. "What is this?"

"Just an educated guess, but I think they might be birthday presents," the Captain suggested.

Flushing, she attempted to protest. "You've all done too much. Everyone's going overboard. You all, Jeff…"

"What'd Doc Gideon give you?" Thom asked.

"Coffee and a card," his mother said matter-of-factly. "And he was in trouble with Lori because he totally forgot until this morning. But, he already gave me the best gift." She looked directly at Thom. "Patching you up after that horrible wreck. Yes, Blackie, don't say it — it was God who did it; I think Jeff would say that's exactly what I said when I gave him credit, sometimes, but Jeff did do the manual labor part. I'm grateful."

"Indulge us. We like doing things for people we care about," Carolyn smiled.

"Yeah, Sis. When Adam and I argued, I think that was one of the points you guys used to make us accept our home," Jess pointed out.

"And none of it's more than trifles. You aren't easy to buy for, my darling aunt," Blackie grinned.

"See, it is not just ghosts who are hard to buy for," Daniel murmured with a sidelong glance at his wife.

"Lynne, we love you, and only did what we wanted to, so be quiet," Martha said, "and open your presents."

Fumbling, she worked her way through the bright pile of packages. Most of them were only small gifts; lotion, dust catchers, a sketch from Jenny, tapes of the musically inclined crew members. Of course, Dash had to outdo them all with a locket containing a photo of Thom on one side and Blackie, her favorite of her oldest sister's kids on the other. An opal was embedded in the center of the heart, since it was her birth-stone.

When the gathering began to break up, the nobleman pulled Linden aside on her way to the spare room where the coats and jackets had been dumped.

"Doctor, there is one more gift," he said uncertainly.

"You already—"

Her protest was cut off with a kiss. "It wasn't a gift for you, my dear. But for me. Even if I'm not as snazzy a dresser as some of us."

Before she could think of a comeback, the ghost vanished.

XXX

Gull Cottage became something of a home port, (as if it wasn't enough already) in the days that followed Lynne's birthday party that led up to the play on October 29th. Since neither Carolyn nor Daniel were performers, but almost everyone they were closely associated with was, it seemed like there wasn't a day that some ghost, or human, didn't pop by with an anecdote to tell, or a favor to ask.

From listening to Sean, Molly, Martha, Ed, Fontenot, Sig, and Tris recite their lines over and over, Daniel wondered, in private of course, whether they actually NEEDED to attend the play. It seemed as if they'd heard it already. Tristan was particularly nervous, although he did wonder why he should be. All he had to do was sing, (the song was not hard, and he loved music) and die, at which he was an expert.

"I really can't offer you too much advice, Tris," Carolyn said as she poured the ghost a cup of coffee, which he obviously didn't need, he was so antsy, the morning of Thursday the 28th, the day of the cast's full dress rehearsal. "I've only set foot on the stage twice since high school, and honestly, the only reason I did Claymore's first play was because Daniel, forbade me to, and the second time, playing Elvira, was to win that New Year's bet we made. I'm really no expert." She frowned. "You are happy with Bronwyn as the director, aren't you? No problems? She and Siegfried aren't back to arguing, are they?"

The ghost took a swig of coffee and shook his head. "Well, she is much better than Claymore, and she has not called me Sig's baby brother, little brother, or any other possible variant of the phrase. And she and Sig are getting along just fine. He's even talking under the speed limit."

"You MUST be kidding me!" Carolyn grinned. "I don't believe it! What does Bronwyn use to direct? Whips and chains?"

"Not that I've seen," Tristan said very slowly, enunciating every word. "If he starts to speed up, she just gives him a… look. The kind I thought Martha had a patent on, but softer."

"Tris..." Carolyn asked, timidly. "Do you see... is there... could they be...?" She sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't be asking this."

"Maybe..." Tristan hesitated. "There is some history there... and I'm not sure of anything but... that... could potentially slow down Sig." He frowned. "It could be a defensive measure. I'm sure that since Lynne and Dashire are "not dating" a bit more openly, don't take this wrong, but your mother might start matchmaking for my brother on her visits... Something that would completely mess up his mind. More so."

"Daniel teases me about being a matchmaker," Carolyn smiled. "Though really, I haven't much. I tried years ago with Claymore and an old friend of mine from college, then tried again to make Clay just feel better about himself a year later. That had a boomerang effect. He got the crazy notion he was in love with me instead… or maybe I was in love with him! By the time Daniel and I convinced him why it wouldn't be to his advantage to date me, I had pretty well given up the idea of matchmaking anyone. But my mother is another story, Incurable romantic. I'm still amazed she didn't try it more with me — even from Philadelphia! She loves matchmaking. It's a nervous habit. Sig's merely next on her list."

"Unless... he's found someone on his own," Tristan mused. "Which would leave Blackie, Fontenot, and me in her sights." He shuddered. "Of course, 'Justin' would be problematic enough to keep her occupied for sometime."

"Tristan Q Matthews!" A gleam came to Carolyn's eye. "Are you trying to tell me something, or NOT tell me something?" Then she did a double take. "Wait a minute! WHO is Justin? There's no one named Justin in the cast… I'm not even sure there is a Justin in Schooner Bay!"

Thrilled to get off the subject of romance, at least a little, Tristan recounted the incident in which Fontenot received his 'name' with glee, even mimicking the formidable ghost's Highland burr to a 'T.'

"You are making me wish I had a part in the play after all!" Carolyn chuckled. "I would have loved to have seen Fontenot's face when she pulled that line on him! What was his answer?"

"Nothing..." Tris laughed. "He just gave her a look that would have made Elroy think about disappearing."

"Most anything does that, Tris! And Bronwyn?"

"Didn't even see it. She had her head in her notes as soon as she said it and missed his whole unspoken retort."

"And Fontenot didn't offer a real first name after that?"

"Nope. You know it does make me wonder if there is a way to find out what his name really is, though."

"Might be best not knowing," said Carolyn. "You know, like some of the one-name characters on TV."

"Like Colombo," Tris nodded. "Or Spock."

"Exactly."

"It's probably something awful like Aggravaine, or Horace. Well, now he is Justin. There's witnesses."

"Think he'll adopt it permanently?" Carolyn giggled.

"He'd have to admit he liked it, in that case."

"Fontenot doesn't admit to anything, too often," Carolyn smiled. "Only that he seems to like the crew here. So… any other funny stories before you get back to work?"

"Nothing funny," Tris answered, scratching his nose. "We did have a big problem with the sets yesterday."

"Problem? What kind of problem?"

"One of the flats fell down... a prop was weak, and it just fell over — boom, landed on a piece of furniture, and punched a hole clean through it. We now have half a living room wall."

"Oh, no! Will it be fixed in time?"

"Nope. Even with ghost power, it could be iffy, and since Michael Post is doing sets, along with Kyle Gorden, Jonathan's old friend. Since he's also doing lights and sound, we can't pull, as Claymore calls it a 'ghostie' to get it fixed, or make a new one in a hurry. You know, though he had nothing to do with it, I'd watch the walls when Fontenot is around. First Adam and Jess's wall, and now this one? He was near both times, you know."

"Claymore. That reminds me, I promised to bring him some soup this afternoon. You don't seem too upset about half a living room biting the dust. Was Bronwyn?"

"Not at all. She said, while no humans not in the know about ghosts were within earshot, of course, that after a hundred years, nothing is new. And that included sets that fall apart, actors that get sick, temperamental or stuck up, and she said she thought the set looked a little overpowering anyway, but didn't want to say anything, as Claymore had made those decisions before she arrived."

"So what are you going to do?"

"She's decided to use strategically placed curtains for the walls with entrances and exits. We do have all those on ceiling tracks, and they are black, you know. Not sure why it works, but you hang a few pictures on them... kinda representational like, and it looks like a real living room. Then we'll still have the mantle above the fireplace where the little Indians are that keep getting broken as the number of murders increase, and the rest of the furniture, including the piano. Bron's changed the lighting and from the front, it looks pretty good. Kinda film Noir-ish. Like watching a black and white movie. Having just the curtains, instead of the flats makes the stage a bit bigger, too. Nice for the humans during the scene when the lights go off and Norrie gets 'killed.' They can't see in the dark as well as ghosts can."

"So, are you guys all ready for the full-dress tonight? Who did you get for your test audience?"

"Senior citizens from the retirement home in Pripet," Tris answered. "That was Sig's idea. The manager there is very excited about the whole thing. He has a bus all ready to get them there and back again, and even said he would make a pit stop and pick up whatever people from the Seaman's Home might want to come, and drop them off after."

"Marvelous," Carolyn said. "Speaking of Sig, is everyone ready for the 'play before the play' tomorrow night?"

"I have my part memorized," Tris said, rubbing his hands together. "As long as Bron can keep him busy, I think we're all set. I can't wait to see the look on his face!"

"Great," said Carolyn, also rising. "You about ready to fly? I need to take that soup to Claymore, and will probably stay and chat for a few minutes."

"I could take it, Mrs. Captain, if you're too busy."

Carolyn shook her head. "No thanks. I really do want to see how he is doing for myself. You know, make sure in my own mind that he is well enough to venture out to see the show opening night. He really has been ill."

"Gotcha," the ghost nodded again.

"Tris?"

"Yes?"

"Come by tonight after the rehearsal? I'd love to get one more report, and I know Daniel would. He's going to be busy until late, visiting with Thom."

"Aye-Aye!"

Tris saluted, kissed the Lady of Gull Cottage on the cheek, and faded out.

"Still wish I could do that," Carolyn smiled after him, then headed for the master cabin to change before her trip into town.

**October 29**

To soothe Siegfried's pre-performance nerves, Bronwyn decided the best way would be to keep him busy, and asked if she could see the famous stables. Around four, an hour before they were supposed to pop to the theater, Daniel joined the pair as they were stabling their horses.

"Ah, Captain, planning on a ride? It's a bit late," Siegfried beamed.

"Glad I found you two," Captain Gregg said. "Sig, Bronwyn, there's some emergency at the theater, you're needed there immediately."

"Emergency? Whatsortofemergency?" Siegfried blurted, reverting to his normal speech in the sudden panic that flashed through his soul.

"I couldn't say. Tristan was babbling so fast, I couldn't make heads or tails," the seaman shook his head. "Ah… no. Don't pop. At least not directly. There are mortals about. You'll want to appear at least a block away, and walk from there."

"I can't believe this. We don't have time to fix anything, not at this late hour," Siegfried began to say.

"Then, let's not waste time!" Bronwyn interjected.

XXX

Five minutes later, the three ghosts walked up to the former cod liver oil factory. Bronwyn fumbled with her key, and then they were inside the pitch-black room.

"SURPRISE!" a chorus of voices greeted them.

"Wh-what?" Siegfried gasped as lights came on to reveal the entire cast, crew, and his family.

"It's your birthday, OLDER brother," Tristan grinned. "We sorta forgot last year, thanks to the couch-crazy lady, no offense, Mrs. Miles..."

"None taken."

"So, this year, we had to do it up right."

"I can't believe it," the older ghost stammered. "This — is incredible. Simply being here, having my lifelong dream…" his eyes turned to Bronwyn. He paused, then went on, "…Acting in a great play, is a fine present, in and of itself."

"Don't be silly, Rob," she blushed. "Planning this was a delight for us all."

"Rob?" several voices asked in concert.

"Who's Rob?" Darlene Hassenhammer piped up.

"Er — it's mine. My middle name," Siegfried admitted. "I believe Tristan has mentioned our father had a penchant for mythology, legends, and so forth. My full name is Siegfried Robin Matthews. As in Robin Hood. Bronwyn always called me Rob."

"Siegfried is a lot to say," she said with great dignity.

"'Sig' isn't so long..." Tristan pointed out, mildly, and Bronwyn blushed again.

"You don't have to explain it doesn't mean Robert, or any other name that starts out that way," Siegfried retorted, but there was a big smile on his face. "You got to pick your own middle name, remember? You never have said what it is, brother..."

"I think 'Rob' is kinda cute," Candy said, quietly.

"I like it, too," Jenny added.

"Cute?" Dash asked, under his breath to Lynne, who was standing next to him. "Never thought of Sig as 'cute'."

"I'm NOT cute!" the older ghost protested, but the look Bronwyn gave him indicated otherwise.

"Right," Daniel added. "Like I'm not 'sweet'."

"This debate could go on for a bit..." Carolyn smiled. "But you guys have a show to put on tonight. We need to get this celebration underway before curtain time!"

The next hour went entirely too fast for everyone's taste. Most of the gifts Siegfried Matthews received were of the functional type — gift certificates to the local Schooner Bay stores, and the like. He was particularly charmed with Carolyn and Daniel's gift; a first edition of Anna Sewell's _Black Beauty, _bound in leather.

With only a little hesitancy, Bronwyn handed him a small box wrapped in blue. Opening it, he found a gold watch fob, engraved with the theater's trademark comedy/tragedy masks. When he expressed his delight, she looked almost embarrassed, as well as quite pleased.

"I meant to give it to you a long time ago," she said softly. "But, as you know, things got a little… tangled up in that area. I kept it, thinking maybe… well, we can talk more about that later, when we have more time." She flushed slightly. "So really, this isn't a birthday gift yet. I'm still thinking that over, but your day isn't officially over until midnight. I might manage something else — you never know."

"What I have received from you… from all of you tonight is already perfect," Sig said softly. "Just perfect."

Lastly, Tristan held out a giant, silver-wrapped box with a huge bow. Knowing his brother, Siegfried opened it gingerly, but nothing exploded, buzzed, or shot out at him. Inside, there was a second box, wrapped in Christmas paper. Inside that was one more box.

"How many boxes are there? We are time limited," Daniel remarked to his grinning crewman.

Tristan shrugged.

Finally, the fourth box was revealed — a shirt box in the same paper as the initial box. Looking half amused, half annoyed, Siegfried pulled out a T-shirt.

Lynne glanced at the younger Matthews. "Sig does not look like a 'T' kinda guy," she muttered.

"I think I can make an exception," Sig announced in a choked tone as he turned to so that all could read the print that took up the entire front of the garment.

_Friend Shall I Be, Call Me No Other. This Vow I Make, Brother to Brother._

"From _Knights of the Round Table_. It played at the movies here last month," Martha noted. "I guess I'll have to quit griping that they only show movies that are sort of — old."

"Sometimes "older" is just right," Carolyn remarked, sliding a look to her very "oldest" friends.

"Couldn't have said it better," the doctor agreed softly.

Ice cream and cake followed the opening of the presents, and then, finally, Bronwyn looked at the clock on the wall.

"I hate to break this up, people, but we have a show to put on — I'm going to have to ask everyone not acting, or directly involved to take a seat in the audience. Curtain won't be for an hour, but we still have lights to check, and..."

"Say no more," Daniel nodded. "Most of us are aware of what it takes to get ready for a successful show... Right, Claymore?" He gave a look to his supposed great-nephew, who had been remarkably quiet, considering that the show had started out under his direction. The landlord hadn't called anyone honey, baby, or sweetie, since his arrival.

"Uh-huh," the little man nodded. He still looked sort of under the weather, though with the dedicated nursing he had been given for the last several days, combined with strong medicine had restored his health.

Daniel lifted one brow. He had expected a longer reply. Carolyn followed with a brow lift of her own, mirroring her husband.

"Claymore, are you all right?"

"Me?" He let out a small sigh. "I'm okay, I guess. Maybe still a little wobbly." He paused a moment. "Would it be okay if I come out and sit with you guys?" He glanced over to Lynne, Dashire and the other non-performers who were making their way to the door.

"Us?" Carolyn looked puzzled. "Aren't you staying back here to get the show on?"

Claymore shook his head. "Nah. Too many directors spoil the play — and I handed everything over to Bronwyn, anyway. Nobody needs me back here."

Thanks to ultra-sensitive spectral hearing, Bronwyn caught his woeful remark. Pausing, she stepped over to the Greggs. "But, Claymore, without your planning and kicking things off, there would have been no show at all. Of course, if you are still feeling not quite yourself, I do understand. The seats out in the audience are like as not more comfortable than the extra chair I'd set aside for you, backstage with me."

"You... you set aside a special chair in the wings, just for me?" He looked like he was about to cry.

"Of course, Claymore. I was counting on you watching the play from there, and sitting with me."

"You're sure I won't be in the way?"

"Of course not."

"Well, if you're sure I won't be a bother..."

"Claymore..." Tentatively, the woman put a hand on his arm, and much to the Greggs' surprise, he didn't flinch. "We... **I** want you here… with the rest of the cast."

"Okay..." he said, giving her a big smile. "Thanks. I'd like that."

Bronwyn smiled and nodded briskly. Then, she looked at Daniel. "Now, sir, I know that in most all matters you are the boss, but I really must clear the area now. I took the liberty of roping off the best seats in the house for your crew. They aren't much better than the ordinary ones, but..."

"It's the thought that counts," Carolyn assured her, looping her arm through her husbands'. "Break a leg."

XXX

Despite the problems that had plagued the show while in the rehearsal stages, _And Then There Were None_ was a true success. It was little surprise that the members of Daniel's 'crew' performed admirably, but so did the four other human members, as well as all the technical help. The reviews published in the local papers after the first night's performance lavishly praised the cast, mentioning how they had recovered from a midway shift in directors, the expert handling and insight of the characters, the original twist put on the more dated ending, and the effectiveness of the simple sets. The second night came off even better than the first.

Thus, the good spirits that had begun with Lynne's party and were sustained through Sig's, and the two renditions of Agatha Christie continued on into Sunday when the local churches combined forces to provide an All Saint's Eve festival for all the children.

Naturally, Blackwood's family pitched in to help, though he really did have plenty of volunteers.

_"I was hoping for a little more privacy for our annual… what is that term Jenny used when you mentioned it to her once?"_ the Captain spoke into his lady's mind.

_"Mind meld,"_ she answered_. "Tomorrow is a school day, so it'll be an early evening. We've got tonight."_

_"I wonder if I concentrate, if I can speed up time slightly. Good grief, must these children be so noisy?"_

_"That's what happens when you get several dozen kids and a ton of sugar."_ Carolyn Gregg's mental voice contained a smile.

His sigh echoed through her mind_. "I suppose. While there is much I wish to say that might lead to a need for privacy, I will say this, dear lady. Every day with you is a celebration. I do love you, my darling. You are my queen, not merely wife."_

_"Change the queen and wife to husband and king, and I say the same to you."_

_"Can we hurry this evening along, my dear?"_

Across the room, Dr. Lynne watched the massive indulgence in unhealthy foods going on, shuddered as various squeals and high-pitched giggles pierced her ears, and wondered to herself what the Captain and Carolyn looked so delighted about.

_"Probably just being together is enough to put that look on their faces,"_ a familiar voice softly chuckled.

Linden blinked. She hadn't realized Dash was that close to her, it sounded like he was right in her ear. No, it sounded like he was there inside her mind. _Testing,_ she thought, _"Charlie? Are you reading my thoughts?"_

_"Ah, well, if it makes you feel better, you are reading mine as well."_ Several feet away, he turned to wink at her.

_"What the blazes is going on?"_ she mentally yelled.

_"Don't worry, it only happens on All Soul's Eve, my dear."_

_"WHAT only happens? You've never done this before. Can every ghost here listen in?"_

_"No... Promise to remain calm, doctor?"_

_"No promises, but explain before I lose it."_

_"Well... on Halloween, all ghosts who have a soul mate, can hear each other's thoughts for that day. It's very rare, actually."_

There was deep silence, then, in a very loud mental voice, she snapped, _"SOUL MATES? WHAT DO YOU MEAN SOUL MATES?"_

_"I did not plan it, you know. It just — happens. It's a great — er — privilege? Honor? There are only a few more hours to the day. I will try to think softly. It's not my fault, you know. I'm as startled as you."_

_"There is NO way you could be."_

Before Dash could try to find some words that would soothe the doctor, Claymore edged over to Lynne. Seeing her annoyed expression, the little man gave her a nervous look and kept going.

"Claymore!" she said in a whisper-shout.

"Er — busy now. I feel too good to keep still," he replied.

_"I could stop him, my dear."_

_"I'm not your anything! And stay out of my brain!"_

_"Should I stop him?"_

_"No."_

At least now she knew why Carolyn and Daniel looked so happy, but it just felt — spooky. Or something. Spooky was — safer.

The rest of the family was suffering no problems. Thom was glad to get out again, though he did look like he might brain someone with his cane if they asked one more time if he felt okay. Dave was going nuts taking pictures of Amberly's first real Halloween. She was either an angel or a fairy, depending on whether you saw her before or after she had yanked off the taped on halo. Those crew members that had been involved in the play still basked in the glow of their success. More than one Schooner Bayite came up to Bronwyn to tell her again how much they had enjoyed the play and hoped she'd help Claymore again. Fontenot endured being called "Justin" with as good grace as might be expected.

Finally, parents began gathering their kids up to take them home. Blackie turned down all offers to help with the clean up, saying that his family had been pressed into service. So, with calls of farewell and thanks for the good time, the hall was left to the Gregg clan.

"Come on, guys. We've got a lot of work ahead," Martha ordered, assessing the mess with a practiced eye.

"Martha, please, after fourteen years, surely you know better," the Captain chuckled.

As she watched, the ghosts directed the debris to stuff itself into trash bags, the leftover to wrap themselves, and the brooms and mops to do a credible impression of the _Sorcerer's Apprentice._

"Why don't you do that when it comes time for spring cleaning?" she asked.

"Because you do it so much better," Daniel answered.

"Right," Martha returned sardonically.

"It is true, dear lady," the ghost said earnestly.

"Thank you, Captain," Martha smiled. "By the way, I will be by Gull Cottage on Monday. It's not my usual day, but I got a little behind. Things got a little busy, what with the play, and all."

"Speaking of busy..." Linden cut in, turning a glare onto Claymore.

The reedy man blanched. "Really, it's not necessary."

"What's not necessary?" Carolyn asked.

Lynne continued to stare at Claymore. Technically, she could not say more, but she could push her patient a bit.

"It's nothing, really..." Claymore began, but he looked guilty.

Daniel's, cold, clear gaze turned to his 'nephew.'

"Claymore, after thirty some-odd years, I know that when you say "nothing," beware. Out with it. What's wrong now?"

"I'd like to know that, also," Fontenot rumbled. "Claymore, you've had something you are NOT saying all evening... What is it?"

Fiddling with his collar, Claymore hesitated, then mumbled something very fast.

"Oh, honestly, talking fast is Sig's department. We can't have two doing that. Now, speak up and say it slowly," Tristan shook his head.

Sighing heavily, Claymore grimaced. "Okay, okay. The doctor thinks that this bout of pneumonia and so on has weakened my system and if I overburden myself with too many activities, like running the theater company, I'm asking for trouble."

"Right here in Schooner Bay City," Lynne agreed.

"But, Doc—"

Her eyebrows shot up.

"Doc-TOR — I've already sold season tickets, and there's plans set in stone. I can't back out now. Greggs don't break their word, right, Uncle?"

"I'm not your blasted uncle, nor am I a doctor. If Lynne says you have to cut back, then you blasted well will cut back," the ghost growled. "And don't use my words out of context to justify your disobedience."

"But…" Claymore protested. "We can't cancel the season! What if I extend the rehearsal schedule? Then I wouldn't work as hard, and..."

"No..." Lynne shook her head. "Honestly, Clay, you get almost obsessed as some other people I could name around here. You'd be wearing yourself out again in no time."

"I've been trying to convince her for two days that I am capable, but..." Claymore shrugged. "She won't change her mind on this."

Jess, Blackie, and Thom exchanged knowing nods. "Yeah, that's Lynne. Once she decides..." Jess observed.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not in the room," Lynne snapped. "And no, I haven't changed my mind." The doctor looked around at the group of family and friends. "Claymore really has been doing too much... he has been eating better, however," she added.

"But I have to do it!" the man protested. "I told you, the season has already been announced, the money's been allocated, people have bought advance tickets, and the shows are fairly well known, almost could run themselves..."

"No," Lynne answered, her voice going up a notch.

"Absolutely, no!" came several other voices.

"Could I act, occasionally?" His voice was pitiful.

"If there is a part that would fit you, and a director cast you, and you took care of yourself, we might consider it," said Daniel.

"You haven't got a director," Claymore answered back. "That is, unless..." His watery blue eyes shifted to Bronwyn. "Unless... I can't believe I am actually asking another spook to stay in Schooner Bay, but, Bronwyn... that is, Miss Tegan, would you consider remaining here? Taking over as director?"

"I..."

"You might like it here, if you chose to, and everyone likes you, too..." He broke off, not saying the obvious. _People don't like me._

Helplessly, her expression torn, Bronwyn said, "But, I can't continue to share Sean and Molly's haunting space. They deserve some privacy."

"We don't mind," Sean said automatically.

"You—" Claymore continued, "there's a kinda manager's apartment at the theater. You could stay there, and be the caretaker too. I wouldn't have to pay anyone then, so doing that would be like — your rent," Claymore suggested. "Help me out here, someone."

Adam raised his hand. "Bronwyn, first off, we like you. All of us." He glanced at Sig, who nodded. "Secondly, I think you like us, a little, most of us anyway, yes?"

"Yes."

"Third, Claymore does need the help. Fourth, it would save him hiring a caretaker. Fifth, you are very talented and your gifts are needed here. Sixth, if someone doesn't take the director's job, Claymore will do it, and hurt himself. It ought to be someone who is capable of filling the role, which you are. Seventh... ah…"

Siegfried spoke up. "I would like to know you again." His gaze held hers. "Please?" he added softly.

Bronwyn pursed her lips. "All right, at least for a while."

"So, I can't mention eight?" Blackie said in disappointment. "We do need you on the Christmas play."

"You have a mouth, it works, and you did mention it," Thom noted.

"Smart-aleck," the pastor frowned.

"...And TJ will be joining you, if you want him, that is..." Carolyn added. "He told us he wants to."

"You mean you spooks can talk to animals, too?" Claymore frowned. "I didn't know that."

"No, Claymore..." Daniel looked at his nephew, sternly. "And how many times have I told you we prefer the term, spirit? But, when it comes to animals... it's just something you know after a while. TJ and Bronwyn get along."

"Besides," Carolyn added. "I think the theater needs a cat in residence."

"Are you telling me my theater has mice?" Claymore Gregg looked hurt.

"No," Carolyn smiled. "I just happen to think that this theater needs a cat."

"And I am sold on the idea… and TJ, if you're all certain," Bronwyn smiled.

"We are," Carolyn insisted.

"Well, I never did aspire to being the phantom of the… theater, but I suppose I am now," Bronwyn quipped.

"Cool," said Tris, and he turned to Claymore. "You said there was a manager's apartment?"

"Yes," Claymore shrugged. "I think it is in fairly good shape. Probably needs a little cleaning… furniture, if you need it… but ghosts don't really need furniture, do they?"

"They do if they are acting as mortals, and everyone thinks Bronwyn is, already," said Candy.

"Right," Dave nodded. "I think my parent's bed is still in the barn… Love for it to get a good home. Jess and Adam decided to buy one when they got married."

Bronwyn's eyebrows went up. "Now what will I need a bed for?"

"But, you know, for when you are trancing?" Tris cut in again. "It's not hard… Sig… he learned first. He'd be glad to help you in bed..." The young ghost broke off, turning bright red. "I mean WITH the bed, of course, and… and…"

"Uhm, Tris, would you like some salt?" Blackie interrupted.

"Salt?" Tris looked at him, nonplused.

"It might make that shoe in your mouth taste better."

Tristan rolled his eyes as the sound of laughter was heard in the room. "In support of Claymore, I've adopted a low salt diet, when I eat. Pepper, perhaps."

Claymore wiped his brow and looked relieved, despite his earlier protestations. "Well, this is marvelous, marvelous!" He rubbed his hands together and turned to the new director/manager. "Has anyone told you what else has been announced for the season? All standards, of course — older shows. They cost less, royalty wise…" He stopped, and looked defensive. "And nobody say a word about me nickel-nursing. The less a play costs for royalties, the more money there is to spend on sets and costumes and the like. I don't want to TELL you what the rental on the Ascot costumes cost for _My Fair Lady_. We were just lucky that ran for TWO weekends. We made the money back."

"I heard how well that one went," Bronwyn nodded, looking about the room, first at Daniel, then Sean and Molly, then her eyes rested on Sig's for a moment. "I understand you all were marvelous. I would have loved to have been there."

"We could manage a repeat performance, at least of the songs," Claymore sniffed. "Did I tell you I acted in that as well? Yes, I did. Anyway…" he started counting off on his fingers. "Now that this show is done, Next comes _Harvey_ — that's always an audience grabber… Then _Arsenic and Old Lace_. I think Sig would be a perfect, Teddy… Maybe Tris could be Mortimer... then I thought we'd try Reader's Theater and do _Spoon River Anthology_…" He paused, as all eyes turned to him. His choice wasn't exactly standard fare. "Well…" he added, flushing slightly. "All those people, talking from the graveyard about their lives… I figured that was kinda a natural, considering all the spooks — ah — ghosts — _erk_ — spirits — we have around here…"

"I see…" Bronwyn nodded, and did her best not to laugh. "That's a great play… small cast, four actors, two musicians, no sets, just stools. I saw it in 1963 when it ran on Broadway with Charles Aidman, Betty Garrett, Joyce Van Patten and Robert Elston. It's a lovely selection, Claymore. What else?"

"You really think so, Bronwyn?" Claymore stood a little straighter, and didn't look quite so discouraged about giving up his director's spot. "I was kinda thinking, maybe I would try out for that one."

"That depends on how you are feeling by then, Claymore," several voices interjected at once.

"Right," Bronwyn nodded. "Was that all?"

"All what?"

"All the shows you had planned," she said gently.

"Oh! Uh, no." Claymore went on. "Actually… and you could change this, but the other two shows I have slated are _I Do! I Do! _The two-person musical about the story of a marriage, I figured…" He glanced at Sean and Molly. "You two would be perfect for that, and then close the season with Shakespeare. _King Lear_, maybe, or_ Macbeth."_

Adam's eyes lit up. "Really? _Macbeth?_ You have that one planned? It's one of my all time favorites!" The lawyer struck a pose_. "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day. To the last syllable of recorded time; and all our yesterdays have lighted fools, the way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." _He paused. "_Macbeth_. Act five, scene five. And, you know, there is a very cool sword fight in there."

All eyes in the room turned and looked at him in surprise.

"Adam…" Bronwyn said, thoughtfully tapping her chin. "I'd like to have a word with you..."

_END_

_**Stories in the Day On Universe in Chronological order:**_

_**BEGINNING OF A BEAUTIFUL FRIENDSHIP**_

_**CHRISTMAS PRESENCE**_

_**GETTING TO KNOW YOU**_

_**FROM THIS DAY ON**_

_**SERENDIPITY**_

_**ONE HALLOWEEN**_

_**RESOLUTIONS**_

_**CHRISTMAS BLUES**_

_**IN GOOD SPIRITS**_

_**THE BEST LAID PLANS**_

_**PAST SINS**_

_**TO EVERYTHING, THERE IS A SEASON**_

_**WHEN THE STARS COME OUT**_

_**I WON'T SAY GOODBYE**_

_**WHEN LEGENDS MEET**_

_**CHANGES**_

_**WEDDING CONSPIRACY**_

_**MARTHA'S WISH GRANTED**_

_**KNOWING THE TRUTH THAT HAUNTS ME**_

_**BROTHERLY LOVE**_

_**HEART'S MEMORIES**_

_**THE DUEL**_

_**SPACE BETWEEN, THE**_

_**CLAYMORE TO THE RESCUE**_

_**GHOST RIDERS AKA: EQUINE ELEMENT, THE**_

_**RELATIVITY**_

_**HELLO, GOODBYE, HELLO**_

_**GIFTS OF THE HEART**_

_**JANE SHOEMAKER STRIKES AGAIN**_

_**RETURN OF THE GHOST HUNTER**_

_**A WEDDING IN THE FAMILY**_

_**THE HEALING**_

_**ANOTHER LIFE**_

_**A SEASON OF CONFUSION**_

_**GARNETS**_

_**AND THEN THERE WAS…**_


End file.
